Verya
by Aradiuth
Summary: A new Diva, martial arts master Verya, comes to WWE RAW and is put into a fiery rivalry with Randy Orton and John Cena. What happens when that rivalry transitions into real life? Cena/OC/Orton. Rated M for later chapters. It gets better later on, trust me
1. Chapter 1

**VERYA**

**A new Diva, martial arts master Verya, comes to WWE RAW and is put into a fiery rivalry with Randy Orton and John Cena. What happens when that rivalry transitions into real life? **

I do not own anything related to WWE…except Verya.

_For convenience purposes, I'll refer to all Superstars by their ring names_.

Verya paced the locker room, waving her arms in an attempt to stretch them and running her hands through her hair.

The other Divas laughed at her, though it was more of a friendly gesture than a mocking one.

"Relax, girl," Melina said. "You'll do fine. I've seen the moves you did in that one training class. And besides, all the moves are choreographed. Nothing to worry about. Honestly, I feel bad for Rey. It's clear he's going to take a beating, especially since he's not all that much heavier than you are."

The other women contributed their murmurs of agreement.

"But this is the first time I'm going against a superstar," Verya said, her voice smooth and level despite her anxiety. "I've only gone against you girls before. Divas and superstars are different things."

"Different genders, you mean?" Maria suggested.

Kelly let out a single snort. "Different species, more like."

"But Rey Mysterio is a reasonable person," Melina assured her stressed friend. "He knows you're going to win it. He'll let you do so without a great beating, trust me."

"He's got some nice moves at his disposal," Verya muttered, running a tanned hand through her dark brown hair again.

"He won't pull the 619 on you," Alicia said, rolling her eyes. "Well, he will, but you're going to duck under it, remember?"

Verya sighed and looked at the clock. "Yeah, I remember. Anyway, I better go. The first match of the evening is almost done, and mine is next."

A series of 'good luck's followed her as she marched out the door, bearing the Divas championship belt over her shoulder. She made her way to the offstage area from which she would enter the stadium. A few superstars, including Rey himself, were there, as well. Verya swallowed her apprehension and approached them.

"Hey, chica," Rey said with a friendly smile, noticing her first. "You ready?"

Verya smiled back. "Sure, Rey. I think the question is, are _you_ ready?"

Rey and the other superstars laughed a bit at that.

"Don't worry, Verya," John Cena said, winking. "I've got your back."

She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. "Well, thanks, John. I'm glad to hear you're so protective of me."

He grinned, giving her a thumbs up. "Keep thinkin' I'm doing it out of spontaneous creativity and you'll be fine," he joked.

Hunter Hurst Helmsley (more commonly known as Triple H), the first superstar Verya had met and befriended, bounced over to her and, still jumping up and down, started gently punching her in the upper arm. "Are you pumped? Are you excited? Know all your lines by heart? Know all your moves? Let's go!"

"Easy, Trips," Rey said, pulling her away from him. "She can't be injured before she even faces me. She won't stand a chance."

They laughed.

Then, Chris Jericho and Mark Henry stumbled back off stage. Chris, the winner, winked at Verya. "Good luck, girl," he called over his shoulder as he proceeded to his locker room.

Lillian, from inside the ring, announced, "The following match will now proceed. Introducing first, from San Diego, California, weighing in at 175 pounds, Rey Mysterio!"

Rey's music blasted out and he quickly put on his mask and jogged out. Verya mouthed the words to his catchy theme as the superstars around her gave her their final wishes for good luck.

"And now, introducing the relatively new but very capable Diva – hailing from Chicago, Illinois and weighing in at 150 pounds, she is the WWE Divas champion – please welcome Verya! Please note that this is the first time ever that a Diva is going up against a WWE superstar!"

Verya's music, "Everybody" by Rudenko, started up and she sprinted out of the backstage room, suddenly the subject of glaring lights and thousands of eyes. She stopped suddenly, spinning around once on the ball of her left foot like always. To her surprise, though Rey Mysterio was one of WWE's most beloved ever, a fair portion of the crowd was deafeningly cheering for her. She smiled at them and, punching the air – being careful not to drop her belt – jogged down the ramp. She jumped up to the side of the ring and grabbed the ropes. Then, she lifted her leg over the second rope, bent her body in half, slid it through the space between the second and third ropes, and lifted her other leg over as well. She was in.

Verya lifted up the belt and waved to the crowd. Then, she handed the belt to the referee and took off her loose shirt, revealing her sporty but decorated black and silver Diva top. This action, as always, earned a few whoops. She threw her shirt to the crowd and turned to face Mysterio.

"Ring the bell!" called the referee and the bell was obediently rung. She and Mysterio began circling, and the match began.

It went all according to the plan, though Verya privately thought she had made a personal record on the amount of pain she could take when Rey hit her with a spinning heel kick.

When Rey went for the 619, just as planned, Verya ducked under it and, grabbing the superstar's legs, pulled him from the ropes. The way he landed, his arm was out in the open and she grabbed it, locking him in an armbar. As planned, he endured it for a few seconds before tapping out urgently.

"The winner is the WWE Diva champion, Verya!" announced the referee into his mic as he grabbed her wrist and lifted her arm in triumph.

Her theme only played for several seconds before John Cena's theme started up.

Verya, acting surprised, grabbed her belt and turned towards the entrance, a look of annoyance crossing her face as Cena strode out, jogging straight towards the ring and rolling into it. He stood and, when his music was cut off, lifted his mic and sighed.

"First of all, Verya, I want to congratulate you on your victory."

Verya accepted this with a curt nod, her impatience evident on her face.

"But I just don't understand this."

Verya took the referee's mic and said into it, "What is there to understand, Cena? Can you not believe that a Diva won against a superstar?"

Cena chuckled darkly. "No, no. Your skill is yet to be surpassed. You're that good. What I can't understand is," he said, raising his voice, "why the management thinks that if a Diva is too good for the rest of the Divas, they must put her against superstars, men older, stronger, and more experienced. Despite the odds, you won, Verya, yes. But what comes after Rey Mysterio? What happens if you keep winning? They'll put you against the best, they'll put you against myself, or Randy Orton, or Triple H, or any number of superstars nearly twice your weight, strength, athleticism, and willpower." He lowered his voice and took a step closer, letting a smile curl his lips. "Although I must say, Verya…I am very, very impressed with what you've done so far."

"Thank you, John," she said in reply. "Thank you for your compliments and thank you for being protective of me."

He flashed an open smile at her. "No problem."

Then, the TV screen came on and Vincent McMahon's face appeared. He said, smiling, "I've just had an excellent idea. How about you two are tag-team partners on Sunday? How does that sound?"

John and Verya glanced at each other.

"And, um," she said, "who will our opponents be?"

Vince pretended to think for a second. "I would say…Randy Orton and Jeff Hardy."

"RANDY ORTON AND JEFF HARDY?" John screamed into the mic. "You're insane! It's not enough to put her against Rey Mysterio for her first time against a superstar, but now you have to put her against either Orton or Hardy? Especially Orton…for a second time?"

"I'm done here. That's my last word and that's what will happen on Sunday," Vince said, and the screen went black.

Suddenly, Randy Orton's theme came on. John smacked his forehead and Verya looked on fearfully as The Viper walked slowly and confidently to the ring. He went in through the ropes, apparently trying to flex as much muscle as possible in that movement, and lifted his own microphone to his lips.

"Well, Verya," he said in his deep, menacing voice, "Looks like I'm going to get to know you on Sunday this week. And, I must say," he said, pausing for a smirk, "I'm looking forward to beating you and Cena then and there."

Verya opened her mouth, but John got there sooner.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We've heard it all before and too many times, Orton. Is that all you came out to say, or was there some other stupid claim you wanted to pose? Maybe make some fearsome faces?" John suggested and began screwing up his face in scornful imitation.

"Actually, I just wanted to get a feel for Verya's body before we're in the same ring on Sunday," Randy said smugly, completely unperturbed.

"Excuse me?" Verya said, shocked.

Randy grinned venomously. "Come here, Verya. All I want is a little hug."

Verya didn't move, staring at him apprehensively.

"Ugh," groaned John, turning around and walking to the side of the ring to lean passively on the ropes. "Come on, Orton. She's no easy lay, no one-night-stander. Would you please get some sense into you? Verya is one of the most intelligent, strongest, and most capable Divas in WWE history."

Verya turned to shoot John a grateful smile but when she turned back, Randy was right in front of her. Before she could back away, he wrapped both hands around her and held her close. She immediately pushed him, using all her strength to break his grip. He smirked and quickly brought his arm up. And in that same second, she was the subject of an RKO.

Though she was far from unconscious, Verya feigned insensibility as she heard John growl an insult into the mic and begin beating on Orton as the Legend Killer tried to get away. She felt the mat jump as, with the first opportunity, Randy slid out of the ring to run back off stage.

She felt John's reassuring hand on her shoulder as he turned her over. "You ok?" he whispered for her ears only, bending over her.

"Mmph," she replied, feeling the blood pulsing in her head. "Ow."

"Get a medic out here!" John roared into the mic, the sudden noise making Verya wince.

She managed to hold on to her consciousness as she was carried out of the ring. She managed to convince everyone that she was perfectly fine, completely injury-free. After about an hour, she was released from the doctors' grasps.

While making her way to the locker room, Verya was stopped by Jeff Hardy.

"Hey, Verya," he said, grabbing her arm gently.

"Oh, Jeff. Hey."

He smiled. "Guess what? I just came from Vince's office."

"Oh. Yeah." Verya grimaced. "I guess we're facing off on Sunday."

"It's ok. I'll be gentle, trust me." He paused, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. "Just don't get in Orton's way. He's supposed to treat you bad. Oh, and Vince wants to see you."

"Thanks, Jeff," she said, and they parted ways.

Verya made her way to the GM's office and knocked. Vince opened the door and behind him stood none other than Randy Orton himself.

"Ah, Verya," Vince greeted her warmly. "Come in, come in."

She stepped into his office, shooting a suspicious glance at Orton while she as at it, receiving a characteristic smirk for her trouble.

"Sit," Vince said to both her and Randy. "I wanted to talk to you about the new Verya-Orton feud."

"There's a Verya-Orton feud?" Verya asked, raising her eyebrows. "What happened to the Cena-Orton one?"

"Oh, that's still going on," Vince assured her. "John Cena will be a nice little ally for you, Verya, don't worry."

"Vince wouldn't leave you to deal with me by yourself, Verya," Randy said lowly, smiling insincerely at her. "He doesn't expect you to be able to."

Verya snorted softly, but didn't say anything.

After a moment, Vince continued. "Anyway. Randy and Jeff will win the match on Sunday. The details of the match are in these packets. But there's something I wanted to confirm with you, Verya."

"What's that?"

He shifted slightly, dropping his gaze to his desk. "Um…well, John is going to be very protective of you, almost like an older brother. To spite him, after RKOing you, Randy is going to kiss you while Jeff restrains John. But I need you to say it's alright with you."

Verya took a deep breath. A kiss…from the arrogant Randy Orton, no less. _After_ an RKO and a lost match. She picked up a packet and leafed through it, skimming through the beating she would take, largely from Randy himself. Still, this was her job. She did it for the fans, and it didn't take rocket science to know that a move like that from Randy, as well as John's stubborn goal to protect her, would excite them to no end.

"All right," she said finally, her tone seemingly indifferent.

"Excellent," Vince said, letting out the breath he had obviously been holding. "Excellent, very good. And, Randy, you're fine with kissing Verya?"

Verya glanced at him, keeping her face blank.

He met her gaze, his lips curved in a confident smile. "Sure," he said without hesitation.

"Good. Ok, you two are free to go. Thank you." Vince nodded at them and waved his dismissal.

Verya and Randy exited the office. As soon as they were out, Randy turned to her and grinned.

"I knew you couldn't resist me," he teased.

"Oh, please, Orton. You know it's just for the storyline," she sighed. Her head was still hurting and her body ached, begging her to get to bed and sleep. She didn't have the time for this.

"Yeah? You know, I would have thought differently based on the look that you gave me back in Vince's office." With one final smirk, he turned his back and walked away.

Verya stared at his retreating back, seething. But her mind was blank, lacking any good comebacks, and she was too tired to think of something to do, though throwing something at him crossed her mind at some point. In the end, she simply turned and made her way back to the locker room to change. She would deal with him on Sunday. In the meantime, she had lines and moves to study and practice.


	2. Chapter 2: Truth Or Dare?

Thursday night. Verya was fully ready to get with a few of her girlfriends and watch WWE Superstars. She picked up the two packs of beer she would take over to Mickie's room and turned towards the door. As if on cue, a crisp knock shattered the silence.

Sighing, she put down the beer and opened the door, seeing John Cena leaning against the side of doorframe.

He flashed a smile at her. "Hey," he said.

"Hi, John," she replied.

"Listen, there's been a change of plans," he said, handing her a short script. "You and I are making an appearance tonight. I'm going up against Randy when he insults me. I beat him, you come out and congratulate me and mildly bad-mouth Randy." He pointed to the place in her script. "I leave, you start to follow me, Randy throws himself at you, knocking you straight out of the ring, I come back and give him an Attitude Adjustment, and we leave together." He paused and smiled at her. "Got it?"

Verya skimmed through the piece of paper. "Yeah, sure. When did this happen, again?"

"Uh, this morning. Vince thought that the Verya-Orton-Cena feud should use a little more work and development before we face off against him Sunday."

"I see." She ran a hand through her dark hair. "Um…I should probably change, then."

John winked at her. "Need help?"

"Yeah, right," she laughed. "I'll be right out."

"Cool."

Verya closed the door and changed quickly, tucking the script into her boot in case she had to take a quick peek, though she had mostly memorized it already. As soon as she was ready, she opened the door. Cena was still there, waiting for her.

"You took your good time," he grumbled playfully.

"I couldn't have taken that long."

"No, you're right," he admitted. "Three, four minutes, no more. But let's go; I need to be out there in ten."

"Shit."

"Yeah, no kidding. I don't even know all my moves."

They proceeded quickly to the off stage room from which they would enter. John mouthed his words silently and marked his moves, feigning punches and falls. Verya, too, looked over her words and thought about how she would fall out of the ring. They usually rehearsed it, at least once, but this she had to do without practice.

Randy, already in the ring, having begun his speech, transitioned into insulting his rival, John Cena. John fiddled with his yellow and green baseball cap, grinning at Verya. "This is the part where my music is supposed to start," he said, adjusting his wrist band. "Now…now…wait for―"

He smiled as it started up and jogged out. Verya watched as he ran straight into the ring and began fighting with Orton. When Randy lay motionless on the mat and John lifted his hands, doing the 'ok' sign with his fingers, Verya proceeded out.

After entering the ring, she said, "Well done, John. I just came out here to say that you were perfectly right in defending your honor. Orton was wrong to insult you like that; besides, he can't really talk." There were some laughs and cheers at that from the audience. "He's a cheater, a manipulator; you, Cena, have worked for everything you have."

John smiled, gratified, and picked up a mic off the side. "Thank you, Verya," he said. "I appreciate it."

They nodded at each other. John walked up to her and gave her a brief hug, after which he passed her and slid out of the ring. Verya, noticing Randy move out of the corner of her eye, turned slowly to follow John.

Though she knew it was coming, the impact was unexpected. She didn't have to pretend to be thrown out; she was literally hurled straight into the ropes. The Diva barely had time to bend her body so that she could fly through the second and third ropes, instead of letting her momentum force her to topple straight over all of them. She landed hard but well on the floor, though she feigned more pain than she truly felt.

John leapt over her, grabbing the ropes and launching himself over them. He landed a few punches on Randy before going for and successfully executing the Attitude Adjustment. Then, he came back over to her, helping her up with a pained, concerned look on his face.

Seeing the question in his eyes, Verya whispered, "I'm fine, John, don't worry."

He sighed and shook his head, slipping an arm around her waist. Together, they made their way once more backstage, his music sounding in the speakers.

"That was interesting," said Shawn Michaels, who had obviously watched the entire proceedings from just off stage. "I didn't know that was in there."

"Yeah, Vince put it in this morning," John said, rolling his eyes.

Verya tried to smooth her hair, but noticed it was a little awkward getting her arms up. Then, she realized John still hadn't let go of her waist and was holding her close. She cleared her throat slightly, but John didn't notice.

Shawn did. "Hey, Cena? I don't think you're live anymore," he said with a pointed glanced at the arm still wrapped around Verya's waist.

"Hm?" John glanced at Verya and started. "Oh, sorry! I forgot." He let go of her and smiled apologetically. "Really, I…sorry."

"It's fine, John, really," she assured him and successfully managed to smooth her straight hair.

At that point, Melina and Mickie hurried up to them. "Oh my god, Verya! We were wondering where you were," Melina said.

"And then we saw you on TV!" Mickie finished. "So we came here."

"Sorry I couldn't come, but the notice was kind of last-minute," Verya apologized.

"Oh, it's ok," Mickie said. "But the party's pretty much over. Not much fun without beer."

They all laughed and left. Verya turned back to John and Shawn, who were both looking at her speculatively.

"What?" she asked, somewhat defensively.

"Just how much beer do you have, Verya?" Shawn asked.

She smiled wryly. "Two packs. Why?"

"Two packs!" John exclaimed. "The show's not over yet. Do you mind if we party in your room a bit?"

"Ah…" Verya began, but was interrupted when Triple H walked up.

"Party? Where?" he asked, glancing from Verya to Shawn to John.

"In Verya's room! There's a party in Verya's room! There's a party in Verya's room! And there's beer!" sang Shawn, running around in a tight circle.

She sighed. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go."

She led the three superstars through the hallways to her room and let them in. The two members of DX teamed up against John Cena for the loveseat couch, leaving John stranded on the floor.

"Hate you guys," John muttered as he tried to situate himself more comfortably on the floor.

Verya tossed a bottle of beer to each of the superstars and opened one for herself. "There's plenty for all four of us," she told them, smiling.

"Love ya, Ver," Shawn said.

"Cheers." Hunter took a devastating swig from his bottle. "Hey, Cena, how 'bout you turn on the TV?"

"Where's the remote?" John said, looking around wildly.

"You're sitting on it!" Shawn howled. "Get up, you fat monster!"

Watching them, Verya couldn't help but laugh. "You guys are so cute," she commented.

"Cute? That's not the word for it," Hunter said, feigning a dark, angry tone.

"Ah ha!" exclaimed John. "I found it!"

"Good job, Champ," Hunter complimented. "Now turn the damn TV on!"

"Right, right. Workin' on it." John found the power button on the remote and finally turned the TV on, switching the channels until they got to the Superstars show.

"Finally," Verya sighed, plopping down next to him.

"Shush!" Shawn whispered, accidentally kicking John in the back.

"OW! Watch where you're playing that sweet chin music, Mr. Heart Break Kid," John yelled.

"SHUSH!"

"Don't tell me to shush! Especially not when you just kicked me! You're still wearing boots, goddammit!"

"SHUSHHH!"

"Why, you little…ugh!" John determinedly leaned back against Shawn Michael's legs.

"What's going on, anyway?" Verya said, trying to distract them.

"Well, um, I'm pretty sure that, uh, The Miz is facing John Morrison for the US title," John said in between comments made by JR and King.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Shawn said, rolling his eyes.

Smiling, Verya took another drink.

The party continued on after the show was over. They each had drunk at least a whole bottle of beer, with the men obviously drinking more. The four began to cast their minds about for another source of entertainment.

"We could go outside and terrorize random people we run into," Hunter suggested, flexing his muscles impressively.

"Hey! I know!" Shawn exclaimed. "Let's play a game!"

"What kind of game?" Hunter demanded, suddenly sitting up straight.

"TRUTH OR DARE!" came the excited reply.

John and Verya groaned, then laughed at each other for their identical reactions.

"Hey!" Shawn said, pretending to be offended. "Don't laugh at me."

"We're not laughing at you, Shawn," Verya assured him. "We just don't like Truth Or Dare."

"Why not?" asked Hunter, leaning closer.

"You know what? Who cares why? We're playing!" Shawn said. "We're playing whether you two like it or not."

Glancing at each other, the two shrugged.

And so began their game of Truth Or Dare…WWE style.

Shawn, since it was his idea, started. "Verya. Truth or dare?"

She groaned. "Um…dare."

"I dare you to kiss John on the lips right here, right now."

John chuckled and slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Michaels interrupted. "_She_ has to kiss _you_, moron. Don't help her; that's cheating!"

Verya took a deep breath and met John's ice blue eyes. Then, she leaned forward and their lips met. After a few seconds, they pulled apart.

"Next time, I'm specifying that it's supposed to be French," Shawn grumbled. "Hunter, your turn."

The Game turned on his friend. "Shawn, truth or dare?"

"Back-stabbing son of a bitch," Shawn muttered. "Dare."

"I dare you to hump the couch for five seconds."

Round Two came and went. So did Round Three, along with four more empty bottles of beer. Then came Round Four.

Shawn sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He had picked on Hunter the last time, and John before that. Time for Verya again. "Ver, truth or dare?"

"Ugh. Dare."

Shawn smiled wickedly. "I dare you to put on your sexiest lingerie and hit on the first guy you see outside the room. And I mean fully hit on. And we're getting it on camera."

Verya stood a bit unsteadily. What could she do? It was a dare. "You're not watching me change."

"Go to the bathroom, then."

She did, and came out in lacy black, earning whoops and whistles from all three of them. John looked especially appreciative.

Shawn fumbled with the camera. "Is it on? Is it?"

Hunter pointed to the red 'REC' sign on the screen. "I think so, Shawn."

"Ok, let's go!"

There was no one immediately in sight. Verya rounded the corner and saw Randy Orton walking slowly away from them.

"What's over there? What's she looking at?" Hunter demanded.

John, Shawn, and Hunter stuck their heads over.

"Holy motherfucker," John said, letting out a low whistle.

Shawn giggled. "Oh, this is gonna be good!"

Hunter rolled his eyes. "No, Shawn. This is gonna be hell."

"Shit!" Verya looked frantically at the three of them. "Do I have to?"

"N―" John started speaking, but was overridden.

"YES!" Hunter and Shawn yelled together.

Verya ran after Randy, cursing herself for getting into the game. When she was twenty feet away from him, she stopped, caught her breath, arranged her hair, and called after him.

"Randy!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly. His expression froze as he took in her half-naked body, clothed only in lacy, black, slightly see-through lingerie. He licked his lips, his upper body tensing. Then, his steely eyes returned to her face.

"Yeah?"

Verya smiled slightly and, moving her hips, slowly cat-walked towards him, pausing just in front of him. "Randy…do you think we could talk, just for a moment?"

"A― about what?"

"Well…" Verya turned around and stepped back slightly. Randy, without the slightest hesitation, wrapped his muscular arms around her bare waist, pulling her into his muscular embrace. "I was thinking maybe about this." She started to gently grind against him. "About us."

She could hear the smirk in his voice as Randy replied, "Sure. Let's…_talk_." Without warning, he suddenly spun her around and, grabbing her hair with one hand, one remaining on her waist, pressed his lips firmly against hers.

Verya was taken by surprise and didn't respond at first. Even when she realized he was kissing her, her alcohol-addled brain didn't respond the way it was supposed to. Instead of horror, she felt giddy exaltation, and she leaned into the kiss, opening her lips to his urgent tongue. After a several long seconds, they broke apart and their gazes connected.

The sound of idle whistling made Verya turn. Randy, also looking up, let his arms slip off of the Diva's body.

"Whoa!" John yelled, faking complete surprise. "Verya, Randy! Didn't see you there. Verya, I don't know what you're doing out here in, um…that…but you look a bit tipsy." He walked forward and offered his hand. "Come on, I'll take you back to your room."

Verya shot him a grateful smile and walked quickly towards him, letting him slip an arm around her shoulders. She glanced momentarily back at Randy, who had let his characteristic smirk of arrogance slip back onto his face.

John and Verya rounded the corner safely, where Shawn was poring over the camera and Hunter was trying to suppress his laughter.

"Oh, man. That was beautiful!" Hunter said, grinning from ear to ear. "Lovely. No man would be able to withstand you, Verya, if you turned your full power upon them. Not even the notorious Legend Killer, The Viper, Randy Orton!"

Shawn sighed, pretending to wipe tears away.

"Didn't get it?" Verya asked, a little sourly.

He looked up with a grin matching Hunter's. "Naw, I got it!" he said, lifting the camera. "It's a masterpiece, frankly."

"Copy that and send it to me," John ordered, pulling Verya along back to the room. "Now let's go before someone else comes and sees you like this."

"'Like this?' You don't like me like this?"

John snorted, shaking his head. "Please, Verya. I'm a man. You are a very sexy woman with hardly any clothes on. You do the math."

Verya smiled in spite of herself.

John led her further away from Shawn and Hunter, who remained at the corner. "They won't admit it, but all three of us were getting hard just from seeing that performance."

She blushed, laughing nervously. "Well, John, um…thanks…"

He laughed, opening the door to her room. "You're welcome. My point is, be glad I came to your rescue at all. Those two were all for leaving you there until it burned out, which it probably wouldn't have until the morning, if you know what I mean."

"Oh." Verya made a face. "No."

"Well, anyway, good luck dealing with Orton from now on. And, uh, I think our game of Truth Or Dare is over."

"Yes," she agreed with a wink, "you three have overstayed your welcome."

John bowed, an apologetic mask on his face. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Sure," Verya allowed.

"We can chill, or we can go work out or whatever."

She nodded. "Sounds good. Call me."

"Right." With a final wave, he turned and left.

Verya closed the door with a sigh. Now with John gone, the headache, dizziness, and drowsiness were setting in. She changed into her pajamas and, after cleaning up a bit, turned out the lights and went to sleep. Strangely, though, the last face she saw before she lost consciousness was the face of Randy Orton.


	3. Chapter 3: An Orton Encounter

Verya woke up at 11:30 in the morning. John had apparently called half an hour ago, based on a message he left on her phone. Sighing, she dressed and made herself a light breakfast, fully intent on enjoying her day off. Once she had eaten, she called John back.

The phone barely rang twice before Cena answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, John."

"Oh, hey, Verya. Woke up, then?"

"Yeah, about fifteen minutes ago." She plopped down on the couch. "So, you got any specific plans or did you just want to chill and hang out?"

"Um…I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere for lunch and go from there."

"Sounds good."

"Cool. I'll come by and pick you up, then. Say, around 12:30?"

"Sure thing."

"Arright, see you then."

"See you."

There was a long pause.

"Hang up," John said eventually.

"Well, why don't you hang up?" Verya shot back instantly, a smile curving her lips.

"Maybe I don't want to hang up."

"Maybe I don't either."

John groaned on the other side of the line. "Fine. I guess we can talk some more."

There was another, shorter pause.

Then, he asked, "So, about last night, were you telling the truth? Did you really first kiss a guy in _third_ grade?"

Verya laughed. She _had_ said that, in response to Paul's question. "Yes. Although it was more of an accident. I didn't mean to kiss him."

John laughed. "Yeah. Right. You didn't _mean_ to kiss him."

"I didn't!"

"Uh huh. How did that go?"

They talked some more and the minutes trickled by until at last it was midday.

"Holy shit, look at the time!" John exclaimed after there was a short pause between them.

Verya looked up at the clock hanging over the TV. "Huh. Guess there's only half an hour until you're supposed to come by and pick me up."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about you, but I need to get ready."

"Put your make-up on and make yourself presentable?" she teased him.

"Hey, guys have stuff to do, too, you know."

"Suuure."

"Well, ok, not much. But still. I do need a bit of time. So I'll see you in half an hour."

"Ciao, Cena."

"Ciao, sexy." He hung up.

Verya shook her head and laughed. Then, sighing, she dragged herself off the couch and flounced to the bathroom, picking up her make-up kit while she was at it. It wouldn't hurt to put just a little bit on...some natural blush, some light eye shadow, a bit of mascara…that kind of stuff. And, of course, she needed to change into clothes suitable for a casual date-like event.

By the time the knock on her door came, Verya was fully ready. Picking up her purse from the counter, she opened the door and found herself face-to-face with Randy Orton. For once, his face was unusually grave and expressionless.

"Randy!" she resisted the impulse to back up a step, reassured slightly by his attire of worn jeans and a t-shirt.

"Hey, Verya," he said in his deep voice. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She bit her lip. "Is this about last night?"

He sighed and smiled slightly at her.

"Um…I guess you better come in."

He obliged and she closed the door behind them.

"Were you about to go somewhere?" he asked, gesturing at her attire and the purse hanging from her hand.

Verya dropped the purse quickly on the counter. "Sort of. But please, sit down." She gestured a little nervously at the couch.

He let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I think I'll remain standing."

She was instantly suspicious. "Whatever you like."

Her tone must have changed, because Randy's eyes narrowed slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched upward, the beginning of his smirk coming on.

"Randy…what is this about?"

"It's about last night. I don't know what you were up to, Verya, but I must say, if that's your way of softening me up before our match on Sunday, it's not going to work."

"It's not that at all, Randy. A few guys and I were playing a game of Truth Or Dare and things got a little out of control." She gestured helplessly at the empty bottles of beer lined up near the trash can.

He followed her motions with his steely blue eyes but his gaze quickly returned to her face. "Either way, I know you can't resist me; at least, not for long." His smirk was in full force now on his face.

Verya scoffed, her mood suddenly black. "Please, Orton. Don't start that again. I can resist you and I'm doing quite well so far doing so."

Another narrowing of the eyes was all she got as warning before he suddenly launched himself towards her, driving her back-first into the wall. One of his hands was at her hip, holding her to the wall, and the other captured some of her hair. Randy yanked her head back with the latter hand, forcing her to look up straight into his face, which was inches away from her own.

With the breath knocked out of her and the initial shock, as well as Randy's restraining hands, holding her immobile, Verya could only let her mind race and her heart rate skyrocket as she stared into the cold, penetrating eyes of the Legend Killer. He angled his head, leaning towards her with an unrecognizable emotion in his eyes.

The crisp knock on the door made them both flinch. Randy leapt away from her, tripping over and landing on the couch. Verya made a quick dash to the door and yanked it open, her momentum making her fall straight into the muscular arms of John Cena.

"Whoa! Verya!" He caught her easily and set her on her feet, taking in her disheveled hair and aghast expression.

He gently led her back inside and closed the door. Then, he looked up and saw Randy Orton, now with a stunned, almost terrified, expression on his face, in the farthest corner of the couch.

With a look that promised vengeance, John started violently towards The Viper. Verya, seeing that he was about to start a fight in her none-too-spacious room, lashed out with her hand and, miraculously, caught his forearm, jerking him backwards.

"John," she said serenely, the faintest quiver in her voice. "Don't. Randy was just leaving."

John sighed deeply, apparently trying very hard to compose himself. Randy slowly stood from the couch and walked carefully around John to the door, never turning his back on the two of them. Once the door was open, he flitted outside, nearly slamming the door in his hurry.

"Verya!"

She jumped upon hearing her name so loudly pronounced by the man next to her. "John! Don't scare me like that!"

He smiled tightly in apology.

"What?"

"Verya…what did he do?" He took hold of her shoulders firmly and, with a nearly possessed look in his blue eyes, demanded again, "What did he do?"

"Nothing! Nothing, John, nothing," she assured him.

Something in her tone must have alerted him that he was losing his composure. He let go of her shoulders immediately and took a couple of deep breaths. "Sorry. It's just…to me, it looked like he had been about to rape you or something, you know? What was I supposed to think?"

"Oh, John." She paused, fiddling with her purse. Then, quietly, she said, "He had come to talk about last night."

John went still. Then, he exploded, "DAMN IT! I _knew_ that was a stupid dare. I _knew_ you shouldn't have done that. Yet, I _let_ you do it. Damn!" Angrily, he threw his baseball cap against the wall, fury contorting his features. "Did he come just to talk, Ver? Just talk about last night, huh?" He threw a couple of frustrated punches at the empty air.

"John! Calm down!" It was her turn to put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, I'm not hurt or anything."

"You could have been," he retorted sharply, but he submitted to her touch and stood still.

"He accused me of trying to make him nice for Sunday and then of not being able to resist him. Calm down," she reminded him as his hands formed fists again. "Then, he…he shoved me against the wall and…and that's all there is to it."

"Really? No attempts at anything, just a little friendly shoving?" John said sarcastically.

"No, he tried to kiss me," Verya said as calmly as she could. One of them had to be rational, and John wasn't going to be. "But so what? He has to kiss me on Sunday, anyway."

"You really think it would have ended there, with that stupid little kiss?"

She sighed. "Look, let's just go have lunch and we can discuss this later. Ok?"

He looked at her exasperatedly.

"I'm hungry, Cena. You promised to take me out to lunch, didn't you?"

"Yes. And I, unlike some people, never go back on my promises."

"Well, then."

John wrapped an arm around her waist and, together, they left the room.


	4. Chapter 4: Make Things Right

The rather long drive (due to traffic) to the restaurant John decided to take her out to wasn't long enough for the angry Champ to calm down. They spoke in brief, tense banters of conversations all the way from the room to the booth.

"Hello, I'm Marie, I'm going to be your waitress today," said the waitress, approaching with a bright smile. "Can I get you two anything to drink?"

Verya glanced cautiously at John, who sighed for the umpteenth time that day and studied the drink menu expressionlessly. She looked up and said, "A Coke for me, please."

The waitress nodded and quickly jotted it down. "And for you, sir?"

John raised his blue eyes from the menu. "Just water," he said after a short pause.

"All right, those will be right up." She left.

As John dropped his eyes back to the menu, Verya leaned forward towards him. "John. Please, speak to me. Are you angry with me, is that why we're not talking?"

He jerked his head up, looking up at the ceiling, and muttered something incomprehensible.

"What?" she demanded.

He took a deep breath and met her gaze. "No, Verya, I'm not angry with you. I am, however, very, very angry with Randy Orton. No matter what kind of feud you may be having on-camera, he has _no right whatsoever_ to transfer it into real life. I have no idea what those ridiculous _voices_ were telling him today, but he can't _do_ those kinds of things, especially not with you. You, Verya, are the future of the WWE, and Randy likes to aim high." John grimaced. "Look, Verya. I hope you understand what very well could have happened to you today had I not been there. I know you're a good fighter, but Randy's better, and that's not a slight to you."

It was Verya's turn to drop her eyes. Chills crept up her spine as she remembered the fierce and determined way Randy had attacked her. "Oh, I know," she murmured. "Or, at least, I can imagine."

"No!" His exclamation made her look up, startled. "No, Verya, you can't. I can't, you can't, Randy can't, nobody can who hasn't experienced it. But Randy _was_ ready to do it to you. Believe me when I say that he is _not_ a good person. He's a heel on TV and he's a heel in real life. His reputation isn't there for nothing."

The waitress brought the drinks and took their orders, giving Verya time to think over what John said. She had to admit, he was probably right.

When the waitress took off once more, she nodded and said, "I trust you, John. You're probably right."

He nodded, never taking his eyes off her, knowing there was more. His expression dared her to go on.

Verya took a deep breath and, for good measure, looked away. "But I feel I have to do something to make things right between me and Randy. After all, we do have a match on Sunday and we'll probably have plenty of matches later on. It's going to be excruciating for me if he hates me the entire time."

John shook his head. "Damn, I _knew_ you were going to say something like that. Verya, if you try to _make things right_ with Orton again, it's gonna be the last time you do. If he was willing to do it once, he's willing to do it again."

"That's the thing. I don't believe he really wanted to, John, I don't. I think he got an impulse, upon provocation by myself, I'll admit, and acted upon it. He probably just wanted to scare me."

"Yes, and if you're not scared, you're a fool," he said frankly. "This is serious, Ver. Don't try to turn this into nothing."

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

John smiled for the first time that day and leaned back against the cushion of the booth. "I suggest you give him the biggest beating you can on Sunday. Send him a statement, just between you and him. I know you don't get to hit him that much, but when you do, make sure you hit him for real. Send him to the locker room crawling on his hands and knees. He'll get it. Trust me."

Verya smiled slightly. "I believe there's a low blow written in there; am I correct?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you are," John said, flashing her a genuine grin. "Do it."

They laughed together. When their food arrived, they were both in a much better mood and talked animatedly about a variety of subjects, all of which were carefully tailored so they had nothing to do with the incident earlier that day. Both were happy when they returned to the hotel and both were pleasantly excited for Sunday.


	5. Chapter 5: Tag Team Action

For Verya, Sunday both couldn't come soon enough or slow enough. Her days had been relatively Randy-less, which was both a relief and a reason for stress. She had worked out once with John and once by herself, so her muscles were pleasantly sore, which was how she liked it. She was reminded of her strength throughout the match, but also reminded of her limits.

In the locker room, the Divas were animatedly chatting about the coming matches. Usually, Verya would participate in the jokes and idle talking, but the nervous jitters in her gut kept her from doing so tonight.

"And then he started smelling my hair, and I was like, 'Ew, get away, that's not in the storyline!'" Melina was in the middle of telling a story to the raptly-listening audience of four Divas, who laughed lightly.

Eve walked into the locker room, tossing her stuff into a corner and beginning to change. Over her shoulder, she called, "Verya!"

"Yeah?" Verya replied, startled.

"John Cena's outside the locker room. Says he wants to talk to you."

Sighing, Verya smoothed her hair and walked out. Indeed, John was outside, leaning against the wall.

"Hey. How you feeling?" he asked, smiling.

"Mm. Nervous," she replied honestly.

He pushed off from the wall and took a step nearer. "Don't worry about it. You'll be fine."

"I don't know, John, this is a _big_ step. And I bet Randy's pissed, and he's going to start beating me up, and ―"

"Calm down!"

"And he'll probably just beat the living shit out of me and I won't be able to go on and the show, it'll ―"

The feeling of John's lips on her own cut off her words. Surprised, Verya froze as John's arms encircled her waist. Then, she melted into the kiss and let him drive. She was disappointed when he pulled away, smiling slightly.

"Feel better?" he prompted, still holding her gently close.

"Mmhmm," she murmured.

"Good. See you out there, then." Giving her a final, brief kiss, he let her go and walked off.

Verya stood there for a moment, slightly stunned, looking after him. Then, she went back to the locker room and finished changing.

Finally, it was time for the match. Verya made her way to backstage. She began warming up and stretching and was joined without much ado by John Cena.

"Would you calm down?" he asked as a way of greeting.

She turned, smiling at him. "Yeah, sure. Easy for you to say," she muttered. She swung her arms back and forth.

He watched her for a moment, smiling back. Then, putting aside his golden belt of the WWE championship, he rushed towards her, picking her up easily and swinging her around, embracing her as he set her gently down.

"Goodness, John!" she sighed when her feet touched the floor again. Her heart beat wildly. "Please, don't scare me like that!"

He laughed softly, gazing into her eyes. "I just don't like to see you tense," he whispered.

"Don't get too cozy with her, Cena," came a confident new, though recognized, tone from behind her.

Verya, still in The Champ's arms, as he hadn't let her go, turned around and met the steel blue eyes of Randy Orton, who, she noted without surprise, was smirking at her.

John suddenly tightened his grip, flattening Verya's back into his muscular torso. She could feel his words vibrating through his chest as he retorted, "You're awfully smug today, Orton, compared to what happened last time the three of us had an encounter, from which, as I recall, you ran as fast as your legs could carry you."

The edge of Randy's mouth twitched in annoyance. The smirk dropped from his face to be replaced by a mask of hatred. "Careful, Cena. We're going out in just a few minutes against each other. I would suggest you be nice to me, particularly since I am going to walk out the victor."

"But not the sole one," came yet another voice. Jeff Hardy, his hair dyed purple, came out from the darkness to stand beside Randy.

Randy acknowledged his tag-team partner with a curt nod. "True," he admitted tightly.

Then, it was time. Jeff was introduced and his music started up. He left, leaving Randy, John, and Verya (still in John's arms), all glaring at each other.

"And now, introducing his tag-team partner for tonight: hailing from St. Louis, Missouri, please welcome Randy Orton!"

Sending a final smirk and brief air-kiss to Verya, Randy strode out to "Voices," looking completely at ease with himself. When he was completely gone, John let go of Verya, spinning her slowly around to face him. With a strange expression on his face, he wordlessly pressed his lips to her forehead and adjusted his baseball cap, looking unbelievably embarrassed.

In reply, as he was announced, Verya quickly hugged him. Looking much, much happier, John sent her a grin before sprinting out.

Now alone, Verya took several deep breaths, concentrating on John, and smoothed her dark hair. Then, she was announced, and she ran out to "Everybody." After her initial entrance, as she started down the ramp, she locked eyes with Orton, whose stare was too intense to ignore. Olive green met steel blue and, though the stare _was_ part of the storyline, on which King and JR were supposed to remark on, the intensity of it sent a shock through Verya and, judging by the surprised look on Randy's face, him as well.

She went into the ring, bearing the Diva Championship belt, and pretended to argue with John over who would start. They both looked simultaneously at the other team, who were also arguing. Verya saw Jeff throw his black-clad arms in the air and step through the ropes. She nodded at John and also got out. She could almost feel Randy's eyes following her as she walked around to straddle the corner of the ring.

"Ring the bell!" The familiar ringing sounded and John immediately started bouncing up and down, side to side, arms up. Randy took a step to the side and, now eyeing John, lunged forward.

Verya watched carefully as John got the upper hand, pulling Randy against the post in front of her. He made the tag to her, and she made a brief show of eagerly stepping in and replacing John in front of Randy.

She delivered three right-hand blows in fairly rapid succession. Then, she gripped his wrist and, knowing he would do what he had to with pleasure, pulled him out of the corner.

He let her pull him, switching their positions, and then he suddenly jerked her forward and pushed her with all his strength to the opposite side. As planned, Verya nearly flew into the post at the opposite corner back-first. She felt her expression contort as pain shot from every inch of her spine, but kept herself from crying out. She fell to the mat hard, her back arched.

She felt Randy's footsteps on the mat as he made his way over to her. He jumped and sent his knee into her temple. Hard.

Verya felt her whole body jerk as stars exploded across her vision. For a brief moment, she completely blanked on what she was supposed to do next and the panic blew through her like a winter chill through a tattered t-shirt. But Randy helped her by backing up to the corner of the ring and making faces.

_Oh, shit. The punt!_ she thought, but then remembered with relief what she was supposed to do. So, when she hauled herself to her hands and knees and Randy rushed at her, she rolled out of his way towards Cena.

Infuriated, Randy recovered from the kick and dragged her back to the center of the ring. The match went on, with Randy delivering Verya more beatings, her managing to make the tag to the anxious John, John beating on Randy, Randy making the tag to Jeff, and so on. It was almost time for her to go back in for the grand finale.

After Jeff hit the Hardyac Arrest on John, he turned around and walked back in order to make the tag to Randy. John, grimacing in pain, threw himself across the ring and made contact with Verya, who immediately went back in to face Randy.

Randy managed to throw Verya across the ring again to smash her back into the post once more. He walked slowly towards her as she used the ropes on either side of the post to drag herself up to a semi-standing position. He stepped up to her, straddling one of her legs in order to deliver a devastating right hand. Then, Verya brought up her leg swiftly, hitting the most powerful low blow she had ever hit.

Randy actually loosed a genuine cry of pain and dropped to his knees, bent over double. Meanwhile, Verya also went down to his level, her hands at her lower back. The two were both in their own worlds of pain, with each of their partners screaming their names. They were both momentarily deafened, both united and divided in mutual agony. And at that moment, their eyes connected.

Randy's expression seemed to soften as he looked upon his opponent. His hands twitched, as if he wanted to reach out to her. Verya, on the other hand, was dismayed. She knew that, after this, after Randy recovered and delivered her a spine-buster, he would RKO her…and she also knew what happened after it. It was a mixture of dread and relief that it was almost over.

Eventually, they both stood up and Verya lunged at him. As per the storyline, he delivered the spine-buster and then knelt down to her level on the mat, on his knees and knuckles.

Verya groaned. Now she had to get up. She rolled away from Randy, feeling the slight vibrations on the mat as he pounded it. She finally managed to straighten and, turning around, walked straight into his RKO. Her face slammed into the mat and she barely felt Randy turn her onto her definitely injured back.

Blackness flitted across her vision, but she still knew what was happening. Randy presumably smirked at John Cena and bent over her. While those thoughts drifted across her mind, she felt Randy press his lips to her own. The most surprising thing to Verya's pain-addled mind was that the kiss was oh, so gentle…although that may very well have just been in comparison to everything else. Then, before she completely passed out, she felt Randy lying on her, holding one of her legs up for the cover.


	6. Chapter 6: The Role of Reputation

Verya woke up to raised voices. One of them she recognized as John Cena's. She sighed deeply, not opening her eyes. Everyone around her immediately quieted.

"See? Now you've gone and awakened her," John said after a moment, his tone openly reproachful and damning. "Now would you please get the hell out of here?"

"No. Now that she's awake, we'll ask her what she thinks of being in your room and the events that took place after the match, which _were not in the storyline_!" The voice sounded like it belonged to Matt Hardy.

"Yeah, Cena. You had no right to do this to her without asking her!" That was definitely Shawn Michaels.

"Yeah!" agreed Triple H.

"I didn't do anything wrong, and I'm sure Verya will agree!" John said, his voice raising in volume defensively. There was the sound of footsteps, and John's gentle touch came at her cheek. "Verya?"

"Mm?"

"Verya, just so you know ―" he began, but was interrupted.

"No, no, no, no," Shawn said, overriding him. "I think it would be best if this was told from an _unbiased_ point of view."

"That would exclude you, Shawn," came Jeff Hardy's calm voice. "I have no bias; I'll say it, and you better not interrupt."

There was a moment of silence, after which the Rainbow-Haired Warrior continued. "Now. Verya, are you listening?"

"Mmhmm."

"Ok. I presume that after that RKO you lost consciousness. Anyway, _sometime_ at the end, you did. So, after the cover, John attacked Randy, I held him back, etc. After Randy went out of the ring, John picked you up, which wasn't choreographed, and took you backstage. We assumed he would just hand you over to the medics and leave it at that."

"What _did_ he do?" The words came awkwardly to her lips, almost slurred.

"Well, he did turn you over to the medical department, but he stayed with you the whole time and then, when you were released with no serious diagnosis, he took you to his room. Which is where you are now, by the way."

There was a short silence as the men waited for Verya's reaction. No matter how hard she thought, her mind came up blank. So, she said, "And what, exactly, is wrong with that?"

"HA!" John wasted no time in chewing out everyone else. "What did I tell you? I told you she wouldn't find a problem with it! I told you she would be fine with it! What did you do? You decided that you knew her better and you thought I would try to do something completely ridiculous, like take advantage of her. The thing is, I'm not that kind of guy, and you all should know that by now. Who do you think I am, Randy Orton?"

"Relax, man, we don't think you're Randy Orton," Jeff said before anyone else could get a word in. Then, his tone darkened. "I don't think anyone could mistake you for Randy. Last night was crazy. He's like some kind of starved animal."

"Yeah, starved for blood," Matt snorted. "What the hell was he thinking, beating on her like that?"

"You watched it?" John said.

"Hell yeah, I watched it, and I was astounded."

"It was sick," Hunter confirmed. "Sick to watch. Steph was with me and Shawn, and she couldn't stand to watch it. Said she was going to have a word with Mr. Psycho the next day."

"Must have looked pretty damn real," Verya muttered.

"You didn't see yourself, Verya, but everyone else did," John said softly. "It looked real, all right."

Shawn snorted. "Yeah. But Randy's pain looked almost as real, if not more."

"Yeah, that low blow sent a very clear message to Orton, beyond any doubt," Hunter agreed. "You should have seen his face."

"I did." Verya finally opened her eyes. Thankfully, the light was dim enough so she didn't have to squint. True to her predictions, the five of them were huddled around her. "I did see his face."

After a few minutes, John ushered the other four men out of the room, demanding that they give the injured Diva some rest. Once they were gone, he sat on the couch next to her, sighing.

"Oh, by the way, you know what happens to you now as part of the storyline?"

"No. Tell me."

"Well, you're going to drop the title in a handicap match: you versus Eve and Alicia Fox. Then while they fight over it, you are going to interfere in a match between me and Randy Orton, set to 'settle the business from Sunday.' Something about me being out and it turns out to be you against Randy." John grimaced. "Um. Yeah."

"Great," Verya remarked dryly. "I love our management." She matched John's expression. "I have a hell of a headache."

He laughed softly. "Get some rest. I'm gonna go pay a visit to the Creative team. See if I can scrape you a win." He left, shooting a final grin at her.

Verya groaned as the door closed, her hands cradling her head. Still, she knew she couldn't lie around in John's room forever. She rolled over to face the door, judging the distance from the couch to it.

It was at that moment that there came a knock on the very same door Verya was staring at.

She swept her eyes over the door. John had left it unlocked. "Come in, it's open," she called.

There was a pause. Then, the handle slowly turned and in walked the last person she wanted to see.

Randy's cold eyes swept over her body appraisingly, and a look of relief flickered on his face. "Well, John, I must say, you're much more appealing now than you were before, whatever you did," he said softly.

"Very funny, Orton," Verya said, rolling back onto her back with a pained grimace. "Listen, Mr. Viper, did you _have _to do everything that hard? I'm currently hurting all over my body, thanks to you."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You weren't that easy on me either, as I recall," he replied hotly.

"You started it." Verya rolled her eyes even as the words came out of her mouth. _What am I, a little kid? That's the stupidest comeback ever_, she chided herself.

Apparently Randy hadn't noticed, or didn't care. "How did _I_ start this? You're the one who provoked me by hitting on me with barely any clothes on!"

Verya flinched, sitting up abruptly. She barely noticed the wave of pain that swept over her in that motion. She snapped, "And before that, Orton? Before that? Let me remind you. First, you RKOed me when you heard that we would be facing each other on Sunday. Yes, that's in the storyline, don't say anything. But you enjoyed it. Don't pretend you didn't. Then, you told me after the match that I _couldn't resist you_. I have no idea what put THAT into your head! Then, you shoved me out of the ring, practically throwing me across the entire stadium with the force of it. Remember that, Randal? And you still say that _I_ started this?"

They both stared at each other. Then, unbelievably, they both began to laugh at the same time. It was an uncomfortable, tense laughter, as they were both trying to stop it and hide it, but it was laughter all the same.

"Ok. So we both had a part to play in this little…feud," Randy admitted after a minute. "I'm sorry for the part that I played, Verya. Really."

She glared at him suspiciously, an uncontrolled smile still playing around her lips. Then, she sighed and said, "And I'm sorry for mine. But that hitting-on-you business…that was a Dare. Honestly."

There came the beginnings of a smirk, but he managed not to let it take over his expression. "I believe you," he said seriously.

Verya tried not to let her surprise show. "Really?"

He nodded gravely. "You're not that type of girl. I can tell you wouldn't normally do that." He lifted his chin and looked at the ceiling. "You're not a one-night-stander."

Verya blinked. "Thank you, Randy."

He looked back at her. "You're welcome."

There was a short silence, in which the pain finally caught up to the Diva's mind. She pressed her lips together and put her fingers to her temples, leaning against the back of the couch.

"How do you feel?" Randy asked finally, a pained expression on his own face.

"I feel…bad," she admitted. "Could you do me a favor and go to freezer? John should have some ice packs in there."

He obliged, bringing back one. "Where is John, by the way?"

"He left to go talk to Creative. I seriously doubt he'll get anything he wants. The only people I know of who can influence Creative are DX."

"What's got him worked up?"

"The next part of the feud that he found out."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"You and John face off, one-on-one, to settle the business from Sunday. You knock him unconscious and I interfere. So, I guess it turns out to be you and me," Verya said slowly, the implications sinking in only now. "Oh my god. You and me, one-on-one."

"I won't hurt you badly, Ver, I promise," Randy said, taking a step forward.

Verya laughed nervously. "Yeah, Randy, you know, I'm not that comfortable with this new, neutral alliance thing we have yet."

He withdrew the hand he had extended as though he had been burned. A look flashed across his face before Verya could read it, and he suddenly lunged forward in a blur of motion, sitting next to her and wrapping one of his muscled arms around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

"I swear," he murmured, embracing her, "I will do my best to both keep you from harm and make it look real at the same time. If you think that you're up to the job of completely feigning pain."

She took a deep breath to steady her out-of-control heart rate. She pushed against his chest gently, but he ignored the message and held her tighter. Sighing, she muttered, "You seem extraordinarily sure of your control."

He laughed deeply. "Oh, I am. You see, you can't contradict me, because I've never bothered to exercise it on you. For which I am extremely sorry," he added as a reminder.

"Uh huh." Verya pushed harder. "Randy. Please. Let. Me. Go."

"If you're not comfortable with this kind of distance, you better start getting used to it," he warned, "because lots of my moves – and yours, I hear – require very, very close distance."

"That's called serrada, for your lacking information," she told him.

"Would you let me finish? And would you please just give me a chance?" Randy pulled her even closer to him. "Come on, what harm can a simple hug do?"

"Randy, I don't know what you were going to do to me that one day when you came into my room, but I have the feeling that if John hadn't interfered, you would have done something both of us would have regretted."

He stiffened and let go of her with one arm. Relieved, she started to scoot back, but the hand he freed came up to her jaw. Gently, he forced her chin up so that their eyes met.

"Has anyone ever told you," he said softly, "that you have the most beautiful olive green eyes on this earth?"

Verya froze for a moment, staring at him. Then, she narrowed her eyes. "No, they haven't. And I don't see what that has to do with ―"

He suddenly leaned forward and kissed her briefly. When he pulled away, he was smiling slightly. "Well, you do."

"Randy," she began, but shook her head. "Oh, Randy, Randy." She wracked her mind for the right words, but they wouldn't come. Everything she thought contradicted what she thought the second before. She simply couldn't figure him out. The thing that scared her the most, though, was that she couldn't figure out her own feelings for him.

"Shhh," he whispered. He embraced her again, and this time, Verya let him. He pulled her forward so that their faces were mere millimeters apart. She turned her head and laid it on his shoulder, using his trapezius as a pillow. She closed her eyes as he began to speak again.

"Verya, please believe me when I say that I am truly sorry for what I almost did that day," he whispered. "It's just…I don't know how to act around you. I don't know my feelings for you, but I know that they exist. I just have to dig them up and not lose my mind in the process. Verya, I…I love you."

"Oh, Randy." She looked up, pulling away slightly in order to make eye contact with him. "I ―"

The door suddenly opened. Randy's arms retreated faster than Verya had thought possible. She looked around and saw John, looking slightly stunned, standing squarely in the doorway. Despite his surprise, there was an iron light of determination in his eyes.

"This time, Orton," he hissed, "you're not getting away without a lesson."

"John!" Verya leapt up in alarm, her vision flashing black as the sudden pressure change took its toll on her injured body. Pain flashed through her body and she swayed. The recognizable feeling of his muscular arms steadied her and her vision cleared.

John held onto her, leaning over her protectively, glaring at the petrified Randy Orton with an almost feral malice.

"Calm down, Cena," Randy said, his voice wavering. "I can explain. It's not what you think!"

"Oh, really, Orton?" John growled. "Then, what _is_ it? Huh? What makes you think she wants you around?"

"John," Verya murmured, her arms around his waist, partly to calm him, partly to restrain him if the former failed. "John, listen. It really isn't like that. Randy just came to apologize…for everything."

"Yeah. Give an apology in return for a kiss," John snarled. "Verya, you don't know him. Once he has his eyes set on a girl, he will do anything to get her into bed. And then, he leaves her, never to speak to or of her again."

She didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't keep from glancing over her shoulder. Randy was rapidly shaking his head.

"You're lying, Cena!" he said loudly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. "It's not true, Verya. I swear, it's not!"

"Yeah," John breathed sibilantly. "How many girls at the WWE have sat in the locker room or in their rooms, up all night, crying because that's happened to them? Let me think…oh, yes. I'm so sorry, it was _only_ half the entire roster of Divas!" His voice had risen to a shout.

Randy looked absolutely devastated. He reached out with both hands to Verya, who had turned around and now stood in John's protective arms facing towards the man she had just begun to trust. "No. Verya, please. I swear…those were just one-night dates. It was nothing. It was just ―"

"Sex," John finished for him in a sibilant hiss. "Believe me, Verya, that man is not even capable of having a stable, long relationship. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't even want one."

Randy shook his head, grimacing. He looked up at her imploringly. "Verya, please, just give me a chance. I swear…it won't be like that! You're not a one-night-stander, so if you don't like the way our relationship progresses, you can just leave me, I swear. Please, Ver ―"

"Whoa!" John interrupted loudly. "Who said you two were going to have any kind of relationship whatsoever? No, Randy. You need to leave Verya alone from now on, unless it's part of the storyline and it's on camera. If you don't, you're gonna have to deal with me."

Randy's expression changed. He stood up, rising to the challenge. Smoothly, John transferred Verya to the back, standing in front of her. He and Randy both strode forward, until their foreheads were pressed together. They glared at each other, sizing each other up. Randy had the advantage of height, but John was clearly the more muscular.

Verya quickly hurried up to them, pushing against each of their chests until she was wedged between them. "John! Randy!" Upon receiving no response, she growled, "Would you two please stop acting like two overgrown dogs fighting over a piece of meat? I can tell that neither one of you is capable of communicating efficiently, so I'm going to be giving the orders here."

They both started to speak, but she held up her hands for silence.

"Shut up, both of you. Now. Randy, please get out. It _is_ John's room." As Randy started moving slowly, she added, "And, you two, don't communicate with each other until tomorrow, at least, when you've had time to cool down." Randy left, leaving her with the murderous-looking John.

"Verya, I'm ―"

She held up her hand again, and he stopped talking, looking rueful.

"I'm going to go now, John," she said quietly. "I know you mean well, but I think you need some time to cool off by yourself. I, meanwhile, will find out the real story behind Randy Orton."

"I already told you, he's ―"

"What did I tell you?" She sighed. "I know what you said, and I know what Randy's told me. I'm going to get outside opinions. Today."

"Verya ―"

"Shut _up_, John!" She grabbed her hair out of frustration and began to pace back and forth angrily. "Can't you keep your mouth shut for _one minute_? I'm so _sick_ of everyone telling me what to do, what to say, how to act. Yes, that's my job, to do that, but that's not what I mean. I mean in real life. This has gotten way out of control! I'm new here and I have just started to understand just how complicated life is here in the WWE. And, dammit, I don't know if I like it the slightest bit."

John, biting his lip, made a move as if to embrace her, but Verya was out of control.

"No, John! Don't come near me! Every man here seems to think it's his right to just go up to a girl and be able to hug her and press her as close to his body as he wants and kiss her and all that shit. Well, I've put up with it – hell, I've even enjoyed it from some – but no more! You are just trying to control me. Admit it! Admit it!"

"No, Verya, I ―"

"Shut up!"

"How do you expect me to admit anything if you keep telling me to shut up?" he said calmly.

Verya immediately opened her mouth to yell at him for speaking, but then his words processed in her mind. "Ok," she said at last. "So admit something."

"All right. I admit that life here is a lot more complicated than you know. And yes, I'm a person who's biased, especially about Randy Orton. But I'm _not_ trying to control you or use you for anything. I'm just trying to help you. Hell, I like you, Verya. You're smart, sexy, strong, interesting, and not afraid to form your own opinions and speak them. At the same time, you're nice and respectful. You don't often find all of that in a Diva."

She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms, but did not speak.

Taking it as a sign to continue, John said, "If you want outside opinions about Randy Orton, I'm not going to stop you. But be careful treading near the Legend Killer. He doesn't have a reputation for nothing, you know."

"Some people are capable of change," Verya said.

"Yes." He nodded seriously. "And some aren't."

She huffed and threw herself onto the couch angrily.

John knelt near her. "Verya, I've seen too many Divas throw their lives away for Randy Orton because they thought the same thing you did. They knew his past, they knew his reputation, but they thought he considered them special, unique enough to spend the rest of his life devoted to them. They thought that one night of paradise was the final step to cement the mutual attraction between them. And the next day they were 'sick,' crying alone in their rooms, cursing him, cursing themselves, cursing the world." He gently took one of her hands. "I would hate for you to join their ranks."

_I wanted outside opinions and here I am listening to his bullshit,_ Verya thought angrily. But she couldn't stop the subconscious feeling of doubt. Maybe Randy Orton really wasn't the person she thought he was. Yet, when their eyes met, she could have sworn…but no, John said that happened to every girl. But how did he know? Maybe…

John sighed, standing up and releasing her hand. "But if you want other people's opinions, go ahead. Go get 'em. And remember, if you ever want to talk, I'm always here."

Standing, Verya embraced him warmly. "Thank you, John." With that, she walked slowly out, making her way through the halls.


	7. Chapter 7: The Truth

As she walked, she hoped to encounter superstars. True to her wish, she immediately ran into Chris Jericho.

"Oops, sorry, Verya," he said, sidestepping her nimbly. "Didn't mean to run into you."

"That's alright. Oh, Chris!"

"Yeah?" He turned towards her, a warm smile gracing his lips.

She took a breath. "I was wondering…if you had anything to say about Randy Orton?"

His smile slipped. He sighed, looking around. "Yeah, speaking of Randy, good job last night. That looked, well, painful."

Verya accepted his compliment with a nod.

"About Randy." Chris shook his head, pursing his lips. "I suppose you mean his real-life character, his reputation…that sort of stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you probably know this already, but Randy's reputed to have screwed half the Diva roster. All one-night-stands. That's Randy's thing. As far as we know, the longest relationship he's ever had was three months. A high school fling." Meeting her incredulous glance, Chris shrugged. "Guys play Truth Or Dare on occasion, too, you know."

"Oh, I know," Verya said darkly.

"Yeah. I don't actually know that much about him. I don't think anybody really does." Chris looked around again and took a step closer. "If I were you, Verya, I wouldn't get mixed up with him. It's dangerous business and experience has proven that it can lead to nothing but a painful breakup."

Verya nodded. "Thanks, Chris."

He smiled. "Sure thing."

They parted ways and Verya continued to the locker room. On her way, she also encountered Batista, Rey Mysterio, Matt and Jeff Hardy, Edge, and Cody Rhodes. Of all those, only the last seemed to have a good word to say about The Viper.

"You know, Verya," Cody had said, shaking his head, "you've probably heard all sort of shit about Randy from everyone else. The thing is, they're jealous. Jealous of his fame, his skill, and, of course, his way with women." He winked. "But seriously…yeah, Randy likes to pull the one-night trick now and again. But he's had drawn out relationships that just haven't worked out for various reasons. Boyfriends being constantly on the road…it takes a toll on women. As for Divas…there are some obvious reasons and some not-so-obvious reasons, but the reasons have always been there. Randy's a complex person; not too many people in the world can claim to understand him."

As Verya made her way to the women's locker room, there were only two people's speeches she recalled with clarity: John Cena's and Cody Rhodes'. It was maddening.

Sighing, she pushed open the door to find Mickie, Kelly, Maria, Eve, Alicia, and Maryse there, sitting around and chit-chatting.

"Hey, girls," she said as she walked in and sat down, starting to unlace her boots.

"Verya!" Alicia squealed excitedly.

"Oh my god…how's your head, girl?" Kelly asked.

"Fine, fine. I'm much better than I was last night, believe me."

They were all turned towards her, looking her up and down.

"So…what happened between you and Cena?" Maryse asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Verya rolled her eyes, smiling. "Nothing happened between me and John, I swear. He just took me to his room after I was discharged from the medics."

They just looked at her.

"Oh, honestly, nothing happened! But you're not the only ones who think something did, or was going to."

"Who else?" asked Mickie, leaning forward.

"Oh, Matt and Jeff Hardy and the two boys of DX. At least, they're the only ones who cared enough to come after us and demand that John let me go."

"They actually did that?" Eve gasped. "Wow…they must really like you!"

"Yeah, I guess," Verya agreed. "It was wild. Anyway, I woke up and told them that I was fine, and John told them to go away."

"And then you just came here?" asked the sly Maryse.

Verya hesitated. "No, I…John left to go talk to Creative and he was paid a visit by Randy Orton…but, of course, Randy found me in John's room instead."

"What did he say?" Kelly asked lightly.

"He, ah…he said…he just wanted to apologize for what he had done to me thus far. And then John came back, and he blew a casket on Randy." Verya played with a strand of her hair, staring at the floor. Then, she looked up to make eye contact with each of the girls. "Interestingly enough, he started accusing Randy of all sorts of things. Something about trying to get me into bed for one night like he did a bunch of other girls."

Almost all dropped their gazes immediately. Eve, Mickie, and Alicia didn't, though Mickie looked away after a few seconds.

Carefully, Verya went on, "More interestingly, Randy didn't deny it…exactly."

"I'll bet he didn't deny it," Mickie said darkly. "He's proud of it."

Abruptly, Kelly stood. "Oh my god, I can't believe it! I forgot my hair mousse backstage! Be back later!" She rushed out.

Alicia shook her head. "Poor Kelly. She got hit the worst."

With a sinking feeling, Verya realized she had finally hit the jackpot. "So it's true?" she asked softly.

"It's true," confirmed Mickie.

"It was bad," Maria said brokenly.

Maryse started rapidly combing through her long blonde hair. "I remember," she whispered, barely audible, "I told everyone I was sick the next day. Just stayed in my room. I couldn't believe it." She buried her face in her hands and Verya immediately scooted over, putting one arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"He didn't get me or Eve, though," Alicia said.

"He didn't even try me," Eve said unashamedly. "I think he flirted, but I'm pretty sure I gave off the wrong signals."

"I didn't let him get near me," Alicia said. "I'd heard too much about him."

"Of course, the biggest impact was the one he had on Kelly," Mickie said quietly. "She just couldn't let him go."

"What happened?" Verya asked, almost afraid to find out.

"Well, after that first night, she just wouldn't leave him alone. She followed him around, begging him, swearing at him, everything. Nothing worked. Eventually she sort of gave up. Then, two weeks after she did, he came back to her. Swore to her that he was sorry, he didn't know what came into him. She believed him and that was their second night. Ended the same way, but this time, he talked."

"And she did _not_ like what he had to say," put in Alicia.

"Broke her heart, poor thing," Mickie confirmed. "Now, she can't even look at him anymore."

"But she sure as hell can talk about him," Maryse said, looking up. "And, my god, the things she _says_!"

"Oh, more than half of them probably aren't true," Alicia said dismissively. "But the point it, Verya…don't get mixed up with Randy Orton. No matter what he tells you, he's only got one thing on his mind, and even _it_ is temporary."

After some uncomfortable small talk, Verya packed up and left the locker room, making for the hotel across the street. But she had scarcely walked out of the building when she literally ran into Randy himself.

He turned quickly and caught her successfully before she hit the ground, if indeed she would have. He pulled her to her feet securely and, unsurprisingly, they ended up quite close.

Verya glanced up to thank him, but her words died on her lips. There was such a fierce intensity in his eyes that it struck her speechless. His words came back to her: _"I love you."_ For the first time that day Verya completely forgot what everyone else – with the exception of Cody Rhodes – had told her.

"You all right?" he asked her, breaking the silence, and the spell with it.

"Oh!" Verya blushed as she realized she had been staring at him. "Yeah, sorry about that. Thanks, Randy."

He smiled, but she dared not meet his eyes again. She stepped gently out of his arms, just as the door opened.

They both turned. Verya smiled at the exiting Miz.

"Hey, hey, Verya!" Miz exclaimed, extending his arms for a hug, dropping his bulky bag in the process. As she went into his embrace, he nodded at The Viper and added, more subdued, "What's up, Randy?"

"Hey, Miz," Verya greeted him.

"How are you, baby girl?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Just fine, thanks."

"Saw your guys' match," he said, nodding again at Randy. "Looked pretty bad, for both of you."

Before they could reply, another superstar walked out of the building. This time, Verya sighed in anticipation of a fight.

John Cena froze upon seeing her and Randy together again, but he relaxed a bit as he noticed Miz. "What's up, bro?" he said to the latter.

As Miz responded, John sent an icy glare at Randy, who answered in like.

As the two glared at each other, Verya suddenly had an idea to avoid a fight at that very moment. Pulling The Miz aside for a second, she hissed, "Miz! You have to talk to Randy!"

"I do?" he whispered.

"Yeah. About anything. The match, moves, working out, anything. _I_ need to talk to John, and John is a little busy with Randy at the moment."

Miz's expression cleared. "Will do," he whispered. Then, sauntering back to his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and said clearly, "Hey, Randy! I forgot. I wanted to talk to you 'bout something. Got a minute?"

"What?" Randy growled, his gaze never wavering from John's.

"Aw, come on, man, in _private_. Look, I need your advice, ok?"

That got his attention. The Viper looked away, a spark of interest in his steel eyes. "Yeah? About what?"

Miz made a motion that clearly indicated 'let's walk and talk at the same time.' Randy sighed and followed him.

John glared after the retreating Randy with a vengeance, but Verya cleared her throat and he turned.

"John, can I talk to you?"

"Sure, Verya. You can always talk to me." It was extraordinary how quickly he made the change from hateful, seething anger to calm, assured openness.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, John." Verya dared a quick glance at Randy and The Miz, making sure they had crossed the busy street and the traffic light had changed. "Let's walk to the hotel."

She reached down for her bag, but John beat her to it.

"I got it, Ver, I got it." He swiftly slung her bag over his shoulder as if it weighed not a pound over the weight of a feather.

"Thanks," she said and began to lead him slowly to the crosswalk. _Dammit, Miz, can't you hurry it up?_ The 'awesome' superstar was talking to Randy expressively right at the doors to the hotel. Thankfully, it seemed that John had forgotten all about them.

"So, what did you want to talk about? Is it about Randy?"

"Yes, it's about Randy."

"_You_ and Randy?"

"No. _You_ and Randy."

"_Me_ and Randy?"

"Yeah." Verya turned to face him fully. "John, you have let this get way out of control. No, don't interrupt me and tell me that it's his fault. Yes, it's his fault, but it's also yours. I know you guys don't like each other and, it seems, have never liked each other. But now that all three of us are in the same feud, we have to make this work. We have to be professional. At least two of us have to be calm, cool, and collected, and it doesn't look like Randy's completely up for the job." She took a deep breath and placed her hands on John's shoulders. "Can I count on you, John? Please? We _have_ to make this work. If not for me, if not for us, then for the fans! You know this is exciting. The ratings have gone up already! Raw is suddenly getting more and more viewers with each show. Tickets are sold out by the second day. Doesn't that _say_ something? Don't you _get_ it? They like this feud. _We have to make it work_!"

It was the right thing to say. She knew she had won before he even opened his mouth. The defeat was clear in his eyes, his expression. He knew she was right.

John sighed. "All right," he said after a short pause. "All right. I'll try." He eyed her carefully before adding ferociously, "But I swear, if he ever lays hands on you when it's not necessary again, I will personally make him regret it for the rest of his miserable life."

"Agreed," Verya allowed, smiling in spite of herself. "Jesus, John, you're so over-protective."

He couldn't resist smiling back. "I just want what's best for you," he said, taking her hands in his. "You deserve it."

"Ok, you two lovebirds," came Mickie's voice from behind them. "Can't you see the 'walk' sign is on?"

They laughed and John released her hands, taking the lead across the street. Mickie grabbed Verya's wrist just as she was about to follow him and pulled her back, proceeding more slowly.

"For goodness' sake, woman," she whispered, "would you make up your mind already? John Cena or Randy Orton?"

Verya laughed softly, making sure John was out of earshot. "I don't like Randy Orton," she said, her honest, assuring tone falling flat.

Mickie just looked at her exasperatedly. "Please."

"And I don't like John either," she added quickly. "We're just friends."

"Yeah. You know, Verya, friends don't normally kiss each other on the lips every day."

"He usually initiates. What am I supposed to do, push him away?"

"No, but you definitely look like you enjoy it."

"When was the last time you saw me and John kissing?"

"Oh, you do it all the time before you go out."

"Out meaning to the ring?"

"Yeah." Mickie smirked. "And don't tell me you don't like Randy. You've been taking a little too much interest in him. And besides," she added, lowering her voice, "I've seen the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you."

Verya groaned as the light suddenly switched. They ran the rest of the way across the street, where John was waiting for them expectantly. She took the remaining few seconds to hiss to Mickie, "Well, don't tell anyone!"

Mickie gave her a look. "I never tell," she promised and took off for the hotel at a brisk walk. She perceptively dragged in the loitering Randy Orton as she did so, before John noticed him.

"What the heck took you so long?" John wanted to know.

"Girl talk," Verya replied shortly.

"Yeah? What were you talking about?"

"You." Well, it was part of the truth.

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Me? What did you say about me? Were you talking about my dashingly amazing looks?"

"Of course we were," Verya laughed. "Let's go, hot stuff."

They reached the doors of the hotel. John turned around so that they were to his back, providing Verya with an excellent opportunity to make sure Randy checked in quickly and left before they went in.

"Listen, Verya," he said, leaning lightly against the glass. "Vince is going to send over the stuff for the next show in a few hours. I was wondering…would you like to come over to my room sometime and go over it with me, since we're probably going to be doing something together on camera."

"Sure," she said easily, smiling. Quickly, she checked on Randy. No sight of him. "Give me a call once you get the stuff. You have my cell number, right?"

"Yeah." He smiled at her and opened the door, holding it open for her. Together, they checked in and parted ways after that.


	8. Chapter 8: Are We On The Same Page?

Verya had barely spent a half hour in her room with her roommate, none other than Mickie James, before her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ver. I got the stuff, wanna come to my room and look it over?"

"Sure, John, be right there. What's your room number?"

"112, I'm sharing with Kofi Kingston."

"Ok, I'll be over in five."

She combed her hair and, after applying rudimentary makeup, headed over to John's room. She found it without difficulty and knocked.

Kofi opened it for her. "Hey, Verya," he greeted her warmly, "what's up?"

"Hey, Kofi, is John in?"

"Yes, I'm in!" John called from inside the room. "Kofi, let her in."

Kofi grinned and stepped aside, holding the door wide open.

Verya stepped inside. John was sprawled over the bed near the far window, leafing through a thick packet of paper. "This is very interesting."

"Yeah, he was reading some of it aloud to me," Kofi added. "I don't envy you, Verya."

"Yeah, that's because you don't swing that way, Kofi," John said, rolling his eyes. He patted a spot on the bed next to him. "Come here, Verya. You'll want to be sitting down when you read this."

"Why?"

"Just come here."

She did, and sat next to him. "Well? What's so amazing?"

He flashed a smile at her. "Well, first of all, you and I are dating."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to ask you out…in front of thousands in attendance and millions watching around the world. I think that's how Hunter puts it, isn't that right?"

"Mmhmm," Kofi called from the door. "And now, for the thousands in attendance, and the millions watching around the world, la la la, suck it."

"Yeah." John smiled. "So, what do you think?"

Verya looked away, sure that she was blushing. "I wouldn't mind," she managed.

He laughed softly and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down so that she was lying next to him on the bed. "I'm glad," he murmured.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, ok, you two," Kofi said, looking at them exasperatedly. "Hey, Cena, you want me to contribute an utterly novel idea to you?"

"Yeah?"

"Ok, get this. How 'bout you fuckin' ask her out right now, because you obviously want to real bad!"

Verya felt her cheeks heat as John grinned, considering her.

"Hey, Ver, would you say 'yes' if I asked?" he wanted to know.

"Maybe."

He laughed and kissed her forehead affectionately. "You're so cute."

"Thanks, John."

"You're welcome."

Kofi groaned. "Oh, just do it."

John took a deep breath. "Verya, you wanna go out with me?"

Verya sighed, rolling to face him. "Sure."

He flashed a smile at her and lunged forward, landing partly on top of her. Their lips met almost completely naturally, as though they had been doing it for years.

"You think you should go over the script now?" Kofi suggested, taking a running start and pretending to RKO someone, landing comfortably on his back in the middle of his bed.

John had noticed. He broke the kiss and, after smiling gently at Verya, scowled at Kingston. "I thought you and I were kindred spirits in that we both hate Randy," he said, sounding slightly hurt.

"I hate Randy, man, you know that," Kofi assured him. "But I dig the RKO. It looks cool. And it's fun when you land on a nice, bouncy, soft bed." He sighed, stretching. "This is the part of the business that I love best, I gotta say. Apart from championships, of course."

John raised his eyebrows, rolling considerately off of Verya. "I guess we really should go over the script," he said reluctantly and held up the packet. "The show must go on!"

Verya waited with baited breath from backstage, watching carefully as Randy took out the steel chair and unfolded it, putting it in the middle of the ring. He reached for John's head, ready to drag him over there in order to RKO him.

She sprinted out, a mask of horror on her face, and hurled herself in the ring, just as Randy jumped, sending John's face into the cold metal.

She nearly tripped over him, hurling into the side of the ring, rebounding off the ropes. She sent a vicious kick into his side as he tried to get up. Then, she took the steel chair and, after hitting him once with it, tossed it over the side.

Kneeling by John, she could tell he was pretty genuinely out. She made a show of fanning him, begging him to wake up.

Verya heard Randy get up. She spun around on her knees, the full implications dawning on her. She stood up a little unsteadily, her hands outstretched towards him, backing away slowly. He backed her into a post and their fight began.

Verya could tell that Randy had been telling the truth. He stuck to his promise, being gentle with her, but still making it look real. For her part, she grimaced as she normally would and, when it came her turn to hit _him_, she tried to be nice. Unfortunately, she was less sure of her control than he was, and she still hit hard.

She hit him a low blow and, mounting the top rope, took a flying forearm drop onto his chest. She got the cover and won the match for John. All according to plan.

Randy rolled painfully, getting to his knees. Using the ropes, he managed to stand, locking gazes with Verya.

John was beginning to stir. He rolled to his side and, his lips pressed together, flung an arm out to the ropes. He, too, began to drag himself to a standing position by leaning on the ropes. Verya, although in pain, seemed to be in the best shape. The three of them glanced at one another warily, as though it were a Triple Threat – which, of course, it wasn't.

Sending an icy glare at Randy, Verya calmly walked over to John and firmly wrapped an arm around his waist. "Let's go, Champ." Together, with her supporting a great deal of his weight, they got out of the ring and began to proceed up the ramp.

Randy had found a microphone. His voice echoed around the arena as he yelled, "Don't you dare think this is over, Cena! It's not! And you too, Verya. You, too. As a matter of fact, I have only just _begun_ with you, Verya, so don't provoke me further!"

Verya dared a glance over her shoulder. Randy was facing them, standing on his feet, though leaning heavily against the top rope. His left hand gripped the rope firmly, jerking it this way and that out of his frustration. His expression was livid; his eyes were narrowed dangerously.

Then, they were back off-camera, out of the bright lights, no longer plagued by the fans' deafening noise.

"You ok?" Verya asked John, who was swaying on his feet.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Remind me why I'm a wrestler."

She laughed. "No, _you_ remind _me_. Come on. I'll get you to your room, unless you want medical attention."

He shook his head. "Room."

"Right." She walked him there. "You ready for the next show?"

His expression was blank very briefly. "I get to ask you out," he said, a smile lighting up his face like there was no tomorrow. "In front of millions," he added as if it were a special bonus.

"You've already asked me out," Verya pointed out.

"Damn right I have," he said happily. Completely recovered, he embraced her and kissed her. "Oh, Verya," he sighed, burying his face in her hair. "Where is this all going?"

_Good question,_ she thought. Aloud, she said softly, "I don't know where _all this_ is going. But there is one thing, John, that I do know. And that's where _we_ are going."

He pulled back a bit to smile gently at her. He kissed her tenderly. "So do I."

They parted ways and Verya walked alone to her room, which she shared with Mickie. She started zoning out, the day's stress and toils finally catching up with her; so, naturally, she was very surprised when someone grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

"Shit!" she lashed out with her fist, only to have it be caught by her attacker. She turned, ready to fight for her life, and met the steel blue eyes of The Viper.

"Man, you sure are jumpy," he said, using her captured wrist to pull her closer. "What's got you in such a state?"

"Randy!" Verya pulled on her arm, but he didn't let go. "Don't scare me like that! I'm tired, I'm zoned out, and then _someone_ decides to jump me. What would _you_ have done?"

"Ok, ok, sorry!" He laughed warmly, embracing her.

Somewhat grudgingly, she accepted his embrace, burying her face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He had evidently just put on cologne, because her sense of smell was nearly disabled from the sheer power of it. She lifted her face to decrease the dose. Still, he smelled good.

He was smiling down at her. "So. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she answered immediately and somewhat honestly.

"Uh huh." He smirked. "Sure."

Verya rolled her eyes. "If you don't want to believe me, you don't have to," she told him, pushing him.

His grin widened but he let her push out of the hug. He left one of his arms there, though, and draped it over her shoulders. "Where are you headed?"

"The mall," she said sarcastically. "Where do you think?"

He laughed. "I meant, where's your room?"

"Oh. It's room 145."

He started leading her in the right direction. "Who do you share with?"

"Mickie. What about you?"

"Oh, I share with Cody. Rhodes," he added for good measure.

"Who does Ted share with?"

His brow ruffled as he frowned. "I don't actually know. Might be Rey, but I don't know."

"Huh." Catching his expression, she added, shrugging, "I just would have thought Cody and Ted would be sharing and you would be with someone else. You know, how they're in Legacy together and all that."

Randy smiled slightly. "It doesn't really work quite that way in real life. Cody and Ted are friends, but sometimes they get tired of each other. Cody and I, however, can always get along."

"You guys good friends?"

"You could say that. The thing is, we understand each other. We can basically tell each other anything and can sympathize with each other. It's nice."

"Well, I'm glad." Verya smiled and looked up, seeing Kofi walking there way.

Kofi saw them, and an astonished expression flashed across his face. He stopped in the hallway, barring their way and staring at them.

Randy saw him, too, and stopped, pulling Verya to a stop beside him. "Kofi Kingston," he said.

"Randy," Kofi said flatly, "Verya."

_Oh shit_, Verya thought, suddenly realizing what the tension was about. "No, Kofi, trust me – it's not what it looks like."

Randy's grip tightened. "Excuse me?"

"Randy! We are _not_ in a relationship." Verya looked at him. "Come on, admit it. We're _friends_."

"Verya," Kofi said weakly, "what am I supposed to tell John?"

Verya looked from one to the other. "Randy, go to your room. I think I can find mine by myself."

After a moment, Randy left, but the tension was no lessened by his absence. Verya now transferred all her attention to Kingston. "Now, you were saying?"

"John!" Kofi snapped. "Come on, Verya. What about him?"

Verya sighed. "John and I are in a relationship. Randy and I are not. What's the problem?"

"What am I supposed to say to him?"

"Kofi, please, don't say _anything_. Trust me, Randy and I are just friends. Yes, he has wanted to pursue a relationship, but I haven't let him. I hated him at first, but then we sort of made an alliance thing. I guess you could call it friendship," she added for an afterthought.

"Friendship? That's all?"

"Yes."

"So, you're just with John, right? There's no problem?"

"No."

Kofi paused, his brows furrowed. "Ok, Verya. But really, stay away from Randy. He's bad news."

Verya sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Yes, I've heard that before, and from many, many people."

"Because it's true!"

"Yes, perhaps it is."

Kofi paused again, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I don't mind if you're friends with Randy, but I can't speak for John. But I won't tell him anything. It's your choice."

Verya smiled. "Thank you, Kofi."

He nodded and smiled a little. "Now, can _I_ take you back to your room?"

"I suppose you'd better." She let him lead her to her room and wait until she went in before leaving.

Sighing, Verya went to the bed nearest to the door and, not bothering to check if Mickie was on it, fell on it face first. Thankfully, the other Diva was on the other bed.

"Long day, huh?" Mickie said sympathetically from her side of the room.

"Mmph." Verya propped herself up on her elbows and forearms and looked up. Mickie was sitting, leaning against the pillows, facing the muted TV and looking at her. "Very long."

Mickie smiled tightly. "So, recap for me."

"I woke up in John's room. Early morning, I think, and surrounded by men. After the men left, Randy came and John came and found us and had a row with Randy. Then, I talked to a bunch of people about Randy's reputation and went out. Then, I ran into Randy, soon joined by The Miz. Then, John came, followed by you. I went to my room and then went to John's to look over the script. Then he asked me out and ―"

"WHOA!" screamed the intensely-listening Mickie, sitting up straight and throwing her hands up into the air. "What? John asked you out? Did you say yes? When did this happen?"

Verya laughed, running a hand through her hair helplessly. "Yeah, I said yes. And it happened today, before the show."

"We talked backstage, and you didn't think to tell me this?" Mickie rolled her eyes. "I should've known, I suppose, but I thought that when he came around to kiss you, he was just doing the usual."

"No, he was doing that as my official boyfriend. And then the show, which, you know, is completely exhausting as it is, not to mention when it's me, John, and Randy in the same ring."

Mickie was looking speculatively at her. "Does Randy know?"

"Know what?"

"Know what!" Mickie threw her head back, her hair cascading around her face. "Know what, she asks!" She fixed Verya with an exasperated stare. "Know about you and John, of course!"

"Oh!" Verya thought for a moment. "I don't know. But I bet John would leap at the chance to rub it in his face." She pictured Randy's astonished face and had to smile. He would look so cute.

"Oh my god." Mickie shot off her bed and jumped onto Verya's, startling the newest Diva out of her reverie. "Oh my god. Tell me honestly: did you smile thinking about John or thinking about Randy?"

Verya shifted uncomfortably. "I…well, I smile about John, too. More often."

"And this time specifically?"

"Well, that was about Randy, but it wasn't like that!"

But Mickie wasn't listening. "Verya! Randy is _bad news_ for anyone. Especially a hot girl with a boyfriend!" She frowned. "I don't honestly know why Randy's chasing after you. He's usually too lazy for a proper challenge."

"A challenge?"

"Yeah, like trying to steal John Cena's girlfriend from under his very nose!" Mickie sighed, pondering male psychology. "He must be restless," she reasoned. "He wants to be the hunter again, he wants to chase. He wants to fight over something. And he hates John. So if he could get you…"

Verya groaned and buried her face in the blankets. "Mickie…I really want to sleep."

"I'll bet!" she exclaimed. "I'm tired too, actually. Let's both get to bed."

The two began to change and get ready for sleep.


	9. Chapter 9: The Legacy's True Side

John Cena sighed and raised the mic again, turning towards and smiling at Verya. He took a step towards her.

"As you well know, Verya," he began, his voice even, "I thrive off of positive influence."

She nodded, smiling, and looked around at the cheering fans.

"And there's something I've wanted to do for a while now," he said. He took on of her hands in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "Verya, would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?"

Verya's smile was completely genuine as she nearly melted at the look in his eyes. She embraced him warmly. After a moment they halfway broke apart, with her still in his muscular arms, their faces inches away. John leaned forward and their lips met. The arena exploded with appreciative sound.

They left together, hand in hand, and nearly ran straight into Randy Orton as soon as they got backstage. His expression spoke volumes. He was clad in his wrestling attire, as he was due to make an appearance straight after them, but his eyes warned Verya to expect a visit from him in the near future.

Verya and John parted ways within minutes, as they both had work to do. Verya went into the locker room, changed quickly, and left the building as soon as she could, making her way back to the hotel, with the room that she shared with Maryse. She checked in quickly, hoping that once in her room she would be safe, as there was no obvious way that Randy could find where she was staying, and she was eager to avoid him as long as possible.

Maryse greeted her in the room. "Hey, Verya! What's up?"

"Hey, Maryse." Verya sighed and sat on the unoccupied bed. She noticed the TV. "Are you watching the show?"

"You bet."

"Did you see John?"

Maryse laughed. "Yeah, you and John. God, you make the most loveable couple ever! Are you going out in real life, too?"

She smiled. "How did you know?"

Maryse looked back at the TV. "It's how you kiss him and how he kisses you. And, of course, how you look at each other. It tells."

"Well, I don't think much of that explanation," Verya joked. "Let's watch TV."

Less than half an hour later, a sharp knock came at the door. Verya was staring at an intense match between Rey Mysterio and Batista, and, taking pity on her, Maryse got up to open the door.

Only when Maryse was already there did Verya remember why the knock was so fearfully anticipated. "Wait!" she cried, leaping up from the bed, the TV forgotten. "Wait, Maryse! Don't open the ―"

Her warning came too late as Maryse turned the handle and, giving Verya a weird look, opened the door wide. "Hey, Randy! I assume you're here for Verya?"

"Shit!" Verya was unable to prevent the hiss from escaping her lips. Seeing Randy begin to look in, she dove behind the bed, whispering, "Please, Maryse, tell him I'm not in, please."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Is she here?"

"No," Verya whispered.

"Yeah, sure, she's right ―" Maryse presumably looked around to find Verya nowhere in sight. "Well, she was. Verya! Would you get over here? Randy wants you!"

Verya bit her lip. _What do I do, what do I do, what the hell do I do?_

"I'll be right back," Maryse promised Randy and promptly marched over to Verya's obvious hiding place. She sat next to her and muttered something in French. Then, she said, "Verya, get over there right now. Don't make me drag you out in front of your jealous prince charming."

Verya sighed and smoothed her hair. Before getting up, she hissed to Maryse, "Randy Orton is _not_ my prince charming."

Maryse just rolled her eyes and pushed her fellow Diva.

Verya stood and, trying to project an impression of self-assurance and confidence despite the recent embarrassing turn of events, walked calmly to the door, against which Randy leaned with a carefully stoic expression.

"You wanted to talk to me, Randy?" she inquired lightly.

"Out," he commanded softly, his voice velvety and dangerous. It was a tone impossible to defy.

_Maryse, if I don't come back, tell the authorities to press charges,_ Verya thought as she followed Randy's undeniable command.

"See you later, Maryse," he said lowly as he closed the door behind them, following her out.

Verya turned and leaned her back against the opposite wall directly outside the door.

Randy's expression was hard. "We're going to my room."

She summoned up all her strength and courage and met his sharp glare. "No," she said quietly.

His steel blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "What?" he breathed, taking a step closer.

"No!" she said louder, aware that Maryse would probably be listening. "You want to talk, we can talk right here."

Randy made a gesture with his hand and color flashed in the corners of Verya's eyes. It was the worst thing she could fall for. Ted from one side and Cody from the other, with her back up against a wall and Randy in front of her. There was no way out, unless she called for help.

Verya immediately opened her mouth to do just that but Ted from the left knocked her into Cody on her right, driving the breath from her. Cody took no extra time in clamping a hand securely over her mouth, cutting off the scream she had planned to release with the second breath.

Ted kicked her in the lower abdomen, momentarily immobilizing her. Cody threaded one muscled arm through both of hers, securing her arms behind her. Together, the two forcefully dragged her down the hallway, with Randy following close behind, completely silent.

They opened the second door from the stairs, shoving her in. Cody let go of her and pushed her backwards into a bed hard. She tripped over it and the momentum carried her all the way across it, making her fall to the floor on the other side. When Randy, Cody, and Ted were all in, Ted closed the door and locked all the locks, including the chain rim lock, so that she could make no quick escape. All those locks would buy them time in any scenario.

Verya got up shakily from the floor, trying to keep them all in sight as they spread out across the room. Ted walked around the far bed and Cody walked to the space in between the beds, where Verya stood. Randy remained at the door, facing the wall, bodily blocking her only escape route.

"What the hell do you want, Randy?" she demanded, a little out of breath from the rush of adrenaline still flowing through her.

"You've crossed a line, Verya," Cody said when it was clear Randy wasn't going to answer. "Randy Orton is not the person to mess around with."

"Is this about me and John?" Verya sighed. "Come on, Randy. There was nothing between us. You chased after me and that was all."

"So you two _are_ together outside of the storyline?" Ted confirmed. "I told you, Randy."

"Yes, we're together. And if you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with the Constitution, which guarantees freedom to all citizens." Verya's words were harsher and more biting than was wise in her situation. She realized what she had said only when Randy turned slowly, his expression dangerous.

Without warning, Cody lunged at her, once more pining her arms behind her back, though this time with both arms. No matter how she twisted, Verya couldn't get her arms free, and her strength was no match for his. Randy, meanwhile, was slowly approaching them. Cody turned her to face him as he got steadily closer. Verya writhed and twisted in his grip, desperately trying to get away. The corner of Randy's mouth twitched as he watched her struggles. Finally, he reached out with one hand and caught her jaw, forcing her to look in his general direction.

"Oh, Verya," he breathed, "you have no idea how you'll come to regret your relationship with Cena. But don't worry, it'll be nothing compared to what he will feel."

Verya jerked her jaw out of his grip. "You may gang up on me and do whatever you want and get away with it," she said in a sibilant whisper, "but you will never, ever get John Cena. He's too good. All three of you assholes are no match for him."

In a motion barely visible, Randy slapped her. The blow snapped her head to the side and Verya would have fallen from the force of it were it not for Cody's restraining hold on her.

"I would suggest," warned Randy, "that you don't say such things about me, or you may regret it even more than you already will."

"Fuck you," Verya managed before pain exploded on the other side of her face. This time, relying completely on the strength of Cody Rhodes, she lifted both her legs and thrust them forward, catching Randy squarely in the chest.

Randy stumbled backwards into the table behind him. Everything on the table fell to the floor, though the table itself didn't break.

Cody grunted with the sudden added effort. He didn't, however, drop her, Verya was disappointed to note.

Ted ran over to help Randy get up and to see if he was alright. Randy impatiently waved him away, getting up. The look in his eyes, though partly incredulous, was dark with anger. He started forward, raising a tight fist. Verya braced herself, ready to kick again, measuring the timing.

Suddenly, a knock on the door shattered the violent tension. Everyone flinched and looked at the door, stopping whatever they were doing. They all looked around at one another, the same question burning in all their eyes.

The second knock jerked everyone into action. Cody shoved a bewildered Verya into Randy's muscular arms. The two members of Legacy hurried to the door, with Ted yelling out, "One minute!"

The sound of his voice jerked Verya out of her reverie. She opened her mouth and took a breath.

Randy's hand was over her mouth within nanoseconds. He dragged her behind the second bed, shoving her down next to him. He easily held her immobile, despite her struggling.

Verya listened as Ted and Cody opened the door.

"Hey, guys. I just came over to make sure everything's ok. I mean, what was with all that racket?"

Randy's grip tightened painfully on Verya as they both recognized the voice of The Champ.

"Oh, um…hey, John," Ted said uncomfortably.

Cody was more composed. "Oh, it's nothing, man. Ted and I just had a little bit of a disagreement."

John was not fooled. "Yeah? Over what?"

"Ah, well, you know ―"

"Hey, does your TV work? Because ours doesn't and I was wondering if that's a local mistake or if the entire hotel's screwed." It sounded like John trying to push through Cody and Ted to get into the room.

"Whoa, whoa, Cena, hold it," Ted said.

There was some scuffle, as if Cody and Ted were defending the doorway.

"Yeah, our room's a bit of a mess, I don't think you want to be in here."

There was a moment of silence. Verya and Randy waited with baited breath, each with opposite reasons.

"Ok, whatever. Hey, listen, do you know where Verya is? I wanted to find her but she wasn't in her room. Maryse said she had gone somewhere with Randy; know where he is?"

"Um, I think he said he wanted to talk to her in the lounge downstairs," Cody said. "You should probably look for them there."

"All right, I'll see you guys later," John's voice came distantly as if he was already walking away.

_NO!_ Verya thought and renewed her wild struggling. Randy swore softly, but it was enough.

"What was that?" John asked, coming back.

"What was what?" Ted demanded.

"Who swore?"

"Oh, that was me. I stubbed my toe," Cody said in a strained voice. "God, I hate these carpets."

Verya twisted this way and that until Randy's hand slipped from her mouth for a moment. As soon as it did, she screamed as loud as she could, "JOHN!"

"Shit!" It was impossible to tell who had said it because probably all four men had at the same time.

Verya tried to get up but Randy immediately tackled her back to the ground. It was enough, though, for her to get eye contact with John, whose devastated expression as he tried to fight past Legacy nearly melted her heart.

"Let go of me, Randy!" Verya screamed, kicking desperately. One of her kicks landed, catching him under the chin. His grip slackened for a moment and she shoved him away from her with all her might. She then ran, picking up a chair as she went, to the door. She clobbered Cody over the head with the furniture and John proceeded to destroy Ted DiBiase.

"Let's go," he yelled, grabbing her around the waist and leaping with her through the door way, slamming it behind them. Together, side by side, they sprinted five steps to John's room, which he shared with Triple H.

Verya ran into John's room, vaulting over his bed and landing in Hunter's. John, meanwhile, bolted the door tightly and ran over to where Verya lay, next to a completely dumbstruck Triple H.

"What…the…hell?" said Hunter, who hadn't moved an inch, incredulous.

"Verya…are you alright?" John asked, sitting next to her.

Verya felt John's reassuring touch at her back. She lay next to Hunter, face buried in the covers. She muttered something incomprehensible and curled up defensively.

"What the hell happened?" Hunter asked, finally moving to make room for them. "Wha ―?"

"That fuckin' Orton," John muttered darkly, his tone promising vengeance.

Gently, Hunter pushed Verya up into a sitting position. His hands barely touched her face as he traced the red outline of Randy's hand on each cheek. "Holy shit."

Verya took several much-needed deep breaths. "Oh, John." She lunged forward into his arms and closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

"Shhh," he whispered, holding her tightly. "It's ok. I'm here. You'll be fine." Through the comforting surface of his voice, Verya heard the dark rage boiling.

A few minutes passed in complete silence. John and Verya remained on the bed and Hunter, wisely not pressing the issue, got up and turned off the TV, which did in fact work, boiling water and making strong tea, which he offered to Verya, who accepted it gladly.

"So," Hunter said finally as Verya sipped her tea, John's arm around her waist protectively. He sat down on John's bed. "Do you want to talk, Verya?"

"It's fine if you don't," John added quickly. "But sometimes it helps."

Verya slowly lowered the Styrofoam cup, glancing first at Hunter and then up into John's open face. He smiled slightly at her, pressing his lips softly to her forehead.

"Whatever you want, love," he whispered.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I want to talk." She told them about how she had intercepted the look from Randy as they went out of the arena, how she went to the room she shared with Maryse, how she was unable to stop Maryse from opening the door.

"What the hell was wrong with her?" Up to that moment, both men had listened silently, but then Hunter interrupted. "Why couldn't Maryse just keep her fuckin' mouth shut? Why did she have to give you away?"

"Maryse was under the impression that I liked Randy and Randy liked me," Verya explained after a moment. "Her intentions are excusable."

Hunter shook his head but said, "Go on."

John remained silent and unmoving. The tension in his expression was immeasurable.

Verya went on to describe how Randy had demanded that they go to his room and how, when she refused, Cody and Ted jumped her.

"Typical," snorted Hunter. "They're his faithful sidekicks in the ring and in real life. I just don't understand how they could go along with this."

Verya continued, revealing how they had managed to drag her into the room without anyone noticing; how efficiently they morphed the situation to guarantee their success, making the room completely inescapable; the angry word exchange between herself, Randy, and the members of Legacy; how it very quickly got very physical.

"What was the racket that we heard?" Hunter wanted to know.

She explained how she had used Cody's strength to kick Randy backwards into the table. "And then you knocked," Verya said quietly, looking up at John.

He sighed, nodding. After a second or two, he shook his head and muttered, "If only I had decided to get there sooner."

"It wouldn't have made a difference, John," she said softly, leaning into him. "You know Randy."

He grimaced. "Oh, yes," he said darkly, "I know him."

Verya quickly finished her narrative and then buried her face in John's shirt, though she truly did feel better by telling them.

"The little fuck," Hunter said finally. "What the fuck is wrong with him?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought," John said lowly, stroking Verya's hair. "I swear, when I heard her scream my name and I saw her try to stand and him tackle her back down…" He made a noise that sounded a lot like an agonized growl.

Verya squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about what he had implied. It had almost happened to her before. She hugged him tightly.

There were a few more minutes of silence. Verya lay down on Hunter's bed and John lay beside her. Hunter sat on John's bed, seeming deep in thought.

After a while, Verya said softly, "John, what are we going to do now?"

John looked over at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, Randy seems awfully, um…upset…by the very thought of us dating."

He looked away. "You're right. Maybe we should…cut this off." He grimaced painfully as he said so.

Verya immediately scowled, realizing he had taken her words the wrong way. "No!"

Her sharp exclamation made John flinch.

"That is _not_ what I meant!" Verya took a deep breath. "I meant that we need to take precautionary steps so that we don't suffer from his problem." She stared at him levelly. "Unless you want to break up."

"No, Verya, breaking up is the last thing I want," John assured her, his voice low and sincere.

"Um…listen, maybe I imagined this," Hunter said, "but didn't you say that Randy threatened that he would make John regret this too, Verya?"

"Yes." Verya bolted up. "You're absolutely right, Hunter. Oh my god, how could I forget?" She unconsciously found John's hand and grasped it, as though if she let go of him, Randy would drag him away from her.

"What?" John scoffed. "He couldn't beat me in a handicap match, much less one-on-one. What does he mean, he'll make me regret this?" John kissed Verya quickly. "Nothing could make me regret this."

Hunter let out a breath. "Right. Well, he can get you close. I would suggest you be very, very careful, John. And you, too, Verya. Neither one of you should go anywhere alone."

"I could beat Randy any day," John said confidently.

"Yeah, Cena," Hunter said, rolling his eyes, "but can you beat him when he has his two sidekicks with him? And you know how they all love those steel chairs."

John hesitated. "Ok, fine. That's a good point."

Verya glanced at the digital clock on the table next to the bed. "Listen, guys, I should probably get back to my room and get some sleep." She slipped off the bed and Hunter and John immediately followed suit.

"Somebody should take you back," John said, stepping forward.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Hunter said, gesturing for John to sit down. "I think it would be better if _I_ take her."

After a moment, John pressed his lips together and nodded, giving Verya a final kiss before sitting back down on the bed and turning on the TV. "I love you," he said, smiling at her.

"I love you, too, John," she replied and followed Hunter out.

It turned out that all the paranoia was not misplaced. Verya stuck extremely close to Hunter as they exited the room only to find Ted DiBiase loitering by the stairs nearby. He straightened immediately up when he saw them but made no move towards them as Hunter wrapped a muscular arm around Verya's shoulders.

Together, often glancing over their shoulders, the two made their way to Verya's room. Hunter didn't leave until Verya had safely opened the door and stepped inside.

Verya turned, propping the door open with her foot, and gave The Game a grateful hug, whispering, "Be careful, Hunter."

"I'm always careful," he promised as they broke apart, giving her a wink. "See ya tomorrow."

Verya went inside, locking the door securely.

Maryse came out of the bathroom. "Oh, hey." She smirked. "How did your chat with ―" She gasped as Verya fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my god, Ver! What happened?"

"I am so tired, Maryse, I just want to go to sleep. I'll tell you tomorrow, ok?"

Maryse muttered something in rapid French. Then, she said, "Ok, Verya, just take it easy. I was going to go to sleep soon anyway."

The two Divas got ready for bed with minimum words exchanged. After they put the lights out, though, as they both lay on their backs staring into the blackness, Verya broke the silence.

"Maryse?"

"Oui?"

Verya sighed deeply and shifted uncomfortably under the covers, half-seeing Randy's demonic blue eyes glaring at her in the darkness. "Maryse, have you ever been with Randy?"

Maryse was quiet for a moment. Then, she laughed quietly. "Is that what happened earlier tonight?"

"No, thank god," Verya whispered immediately. "No, I'm just curious."

"Yes, I have. Once. But actually, we got off on a good note. Sort of. I mean, we're still on speaking terms, even despite that."

"Huh." Verya closed her eyes briefly. "How did that happen?"

"It's a long story; I'll tell you later if you remind me."

"All right. We should get some sleep."

"You're right. Good night, Verya."

"Good night, Maryse."

"And, Verya?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't mess around too much with Randy if you're not willing to commit. He really does have IED."

"IED?"

"Intermittent Explosive Disorder."

_Well, THAT would explain a lot!_ thought Verya, rolling her eyes. "Oh."

"Plus he's a spoiled little Legend Killer, a dangerous thing to play with."

They laughed softly and once more said their 'good night's. Still, it was a long time before Verya fell into her fitful sleep.


	10. Chapter 10: Handicap deja vu

"The following is a handicap match set for one fall. Introducing first, Randy Orton and The Legacy, Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase."

Verya and John Cena came out of hiding as the three went out to Randy's music.

"I still can't believe they're doing this," John muttered, glaring after them.

"And now, please welcome John Cena and Verya!"

John's music started up and, together, the two went out, doing John's entrance. This was a no holds barred match with barely any restrictions. It was supposed to be tag-team, but could very well turn into a true three-on-two match at any point. It just couldn't start out that way. Anything went.

The bell rang. John and Cody started. Across the ring, Randy glared at Verya, who avoided his gaze, preferring instead to watch John battle it out with Rhodes.

They had barely been going for two minutes before, as Cody drove John to the corner, Ted leapt in, double-teaming on John. Verya quickly followed suit, and Cody broke away to approach her. Randy, she noticed, was nowhere to be found.

Cody and Verya circled for a few seconds before Verya closed the distance, lunging at him.

_Where the hell is Randy?_ Verya thought, a bit alarmed, thinking back to the script. _He's supposed to be double-teaming John with Ted and then he's supposed to go after me._

Verya momentarily immobilized Cody by hitting a powerful high knee on him. She leaned against a corner, looking around. This was supposed to be the moment when Randy interfered, about to fight her.

Then, she saw him, getting into the ring, steel handcuffs hanging from his fist.

_He's changing the script! What the hell is wrong with him?_ Verya initially panicked, seeing him look at her and smirk. But then he turned to John and, seizing one of his wrists, secured him to the ropes across the ring from Verya.

"Oh, shit," Verya whispered. "Oh, shit, shit, shit! Randy, what are you doing?"

The two members of Legacy looked at each other, grinning. They were in on it.

Randy and Cody turned to Verya, with Ted remaining to taunt and beat on John.

Verya gasped, straightening. "Uh oh," she breathed. She held out a hand in front of her. Louder, she said, as the two got slowly closer, "No, Randy! Cody! Don't do this! What are you doing?"

The two were close enough to touch. Verya lifted her hands, ready to defend herself.

"Verya!" John yelled. Randy turned slightly and Verya saw him smirk. John was straining desperately against the handcuffs, his body stretched out, an arm reaching out towards them. Ted was backing away, approaching them slowly. John's expression was incredibly similar to Hunter's when he had been in the same position, with Orton hovering above The Game's unconscious wife.

Randy turned back to Verya, a venomous smile playing around his lips. His eyes were cold as he leaned in, pressing Verya's back to the post, his hands in fists around the ropes, mere millimeters from actually touching her arms.

"I told you," he hissed, "that you would come to regret this."

Acting on impulse, Verya shoved him with all her might, sending him flying backwards into Cody Rhodes. Quickly, she slid under the ropes, getting the hell out of the ring. Then, she saw John, who was waving at her to go and save herself.

Verya shook her head and broke into a sprint towards him.

Ted DiBiase, also sliding under the ropes, barred her way. She stopped just short of colliding with him and swiftly turned. At that moment, Cody Rhodes vaulted straight over the ropes and landed in front of her. Swiftly, knowing her decision was probably one of the worst she could make, but thinking if she acted fast enough, she could pull it off, Verya leapt up to the side of the ring and started to go in between the second and third ropes.

Randy, seizing the moment, grabbed her roughly by the neck and upper arm. He pulled her partway into the ring but left her shins on the second rope.

_The DDT,_ Verya realized with a sinking heart. However, thinking quickly, Verya started wildly kicking her legs, knowing that Randy liked to stretch the moment for drama. She got one leg off before Randy started to fall. With that leg, she pushed off as hard as she could and made Randy stumble backwards, making the execution of the move much weaker. It still hurt.

Randy, infuriated, scrambled up and, bending back down, seized a handful of Verya's dark hair, forcing her up. He performed a vicious twisting uppercut. Verya's head snapped back and she fell backwards bodily, with no attempt to cushion her fall. Weakly, she looked up to see if Randy was preparing more torture. He was – but not for her.

Randy was kneeling just out of John's reach, grinning demoniacally. He leaned ever so slightly forward, so that the very tips of John's fingers just brushed his nose. Then, as John strained even further forward, he leaned back, taunts flying from his mouth. John was thrashing wildly, struggling against the cuffs. Verya heard him curse Randy repeatedly.

Randy only smiled and leaned forward again. And back. Then, he said, calmly but loudly, "Watch this, Cena. Watch and learn." He turned back to Verya, once more dragging her up by her hair. Swiftly, he performed the RKO, but carefully, so that instead of slamming her face into the mat, he forced her face into his shoulder and pectoral muscle. It hurt enough to make her lie still but it wasn't enough to let her lose consciousness.

Verya heard John screaming her name. She wanted to look up and reassure him, but she simply couldn't summon up enough strength. She felt Randy rolling her over to her back and she closed her eyes, her face up.

"NO! VERYA! VERYA!" shouted John, a few mere feet away. "VERYA!"

Randy's soft, breathy laugh sounded at her ear. "Hear the way he screams your name, Verya? He's helpless. He can't help you. You're _mine_." Then, his lips were at hers, the same gentle kiss she had felt weeks ago, the first time she met him in the ring.

Verya suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of anger wash over her. Fueled by something she had never known before, her eyes suddenly snapped open and she pushed Randy off of her, leaping up, ignoring the pounding from her head. Adrenaline flowed freely through her as she spun quickly, delivering a powerful blow to Ted as he leapt up to the side, and then Cody as he did the same. Then, she quickly faced Randy again.

"Where's the key, Orton?" she demanded. "Where is it?"

Randy shook his head, looking completely taken by surprise, and backed up as she advanced. He had forgotten completely about John, until he walked straight into him. Randy turned and John, stooping, lifted him for the Attitude Adjustment.

The crowd erupted in noise and John, determination lining his face, threw Randy over the top rope all the way down to the floor. His music exploded from the speakers and the referee, having found the key, proceeded to unlock him.

John, once free, paid no attention to the crowd. He immediately turned to Verya and, after asking her if she was alright, embraced her warmly. It was a wordless exchange that they both needed. They held each other tightly, taken by the horror of what Randy Orton had done and overwhelmed by the relief that they had escape alive and mostly uninjured.

It was not a feeling that was to last for long. Verya had closed her eyes, giving herself into John's embrace and was most surprised when John suddenly fell onto her. She tried to support his weight but failed, dropping to her knees in order to ease his landing. She looked up into the face of an angry, chair-wielding Cody Rhodes.

Suddenly, the music of DX blasted through the speakers. Verya looked around and, once more breathing a sigh of immense relief, recognized Triple H and Shawn Michaels hurrying with the utmost speed down to the ring. Hunter bore a sledgehammer.

Shawn went after Ted, whom he eliminated quickly with the well-aimed Sweet Chin Music. Triple H, however, slid into the ring, attacking Cody Rhodes. Hunter managed to disarm the Legacy member with the sledgehammer. Cody, realizing his chances of survival were slim at best, quickly fled, closely followed by a recovered Randy Orton and a dazed Ted DiBiase.

Verya, John, Shawn, and Hunter watched them go. Together, all four raised their fists in triumph. For the time being, they were holding their own. It was just a matter of waiting to see how long it lasted.


	11. Chapter 11: Know Thine Enemy

"Verya, are you sure you're alright?" Hunter asked, as the four sat in the DX room.

"Yes, I'm fine," Verya assured him.

"John, are _you_ alright?" Shawn asked.

John nodded. "Pass me that," he requested.

Hunter tossed him the beer. "That was bullshit, wasn't it?" he asked quietly. "I knew we weren't supposed to interfere, but I felt pretty damn sure that wasn't in the storyline."

Verya nodded, her eyes cast down to the floor. "I was in the corner and I saw those handcuffs in Randy's hand and…oh, why didn't I stop him then? Why didn't I realize what was happening?"

"Nobody blames you, Verya," Hunter assured her. "We were all in shock."

They sat quietly for a minute, each mulling over what had just occurred.

"You two should talk to management," Shawn said finally, playing with a DX wristband. "This is getting completely out of control. End this storyline."

"No!" John actually leapt up from the couch. "No! If we do that, then Randy will have won. By pleading our way out of this rivalry we admit defeat. This is exactly what he wants. We can_not_ give up!" He calmed and knelt by Verya, taking one of her hands and looking up into her face. "We can't give up," he repeated softly.

"John, this is ridiculous," Hunter said, pushing him gently. "You're crazy. You're actually going to demand that they let this continue? You're going to invite Orton to give you even more torture?" He shook his head. "And, what's more, you're going to throw Verya's health into jeopardy?"

John shook his head firmly. "No. I'll ask to settle this between myself and Randy. Verya will be taken out of this."

"Impossible," Verya said. "I'm in too deep with you, John. Admit it, this feud revolves around me. Like it or not, I'm in with you." Her new-found hatred had awakened a new form of recklessness in her.

"Verya," he said, turning back towards her. "Please, be reasonable. Randy Orton will ruin your career. If he wants, he will cripple you, he will destroy you. I will protect you to the best of my ability, you know that. But sometimes I won't be able to." His expression darkened and he looked away. "Like the match earlier. It was, of course, a failure of mine. I'll just have to make sure nothing like that ever happens again."

"John, don't be ridiculous," Verya said, scowling. "What happened was not your fault by any stretch of the imagination."

"Yeah, none of us would have predicted that Orton would just throw away the story like that," Shawn agreed.

"Nobody could have foreseen that," added Hunter. "It's not your fault, John."

John only shook his head. "I'm sorry, Verya," he said clearly. "I promise, it won't ―"

Verya put a finger on his lips, silencing him. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. I don't blame you for this, John. I blame only Randy."

"And Cody and Ted," Shawn reminded.

"Yeah, what is up with that?" Verya asked, grasping the change of topic like a lifeline. "I've talked to both of them before, mostly Cody, and I thought they were ok guys."

Hunter shrugged. "They'd follow Randy to the ends of the earth. Claim to understand him better than anyone else."

"I don't think anybody understands Randy anymore," Shawn muttered.

Verya shuddered, comparing the Cody she had initially spoken to about Randy to the Cody who held her arms while Randy struck her, the Cody who blocked her way (an action which led to her DDT at the hands of Randy Orton), the Cody who struck John in the head with a steel chair. They were so very different.

Then, she thought about the two different Randys she had known. One was the Randy she had almost fallen for, the Randy she had hugged and kissed, the Randy who had professed his love for her, who had playfully jumped her in the hallway one time. The other was the Randy who had RKOed her on their first meeting, who had lunged at her and almost done something they both would have regretted in John's room, the Randy who had, with the help of his Legacy buddies, seriously jumped her outside her room, who had dragged her to Legacy's room, who had threatened her, struck her, and tried to hide her from her boyfriend, the Randy who had handcuffed John to the ropes and forced him to watch as he beat her up and, finally, kissed her.

"I second that," she whispered in reply to Shawn's statement. "I most certainly don't." Still, it made her think, as she, John, and DX made their way to the hotel to get to their rooms. What if she talked to one of the members of Legacy, the only people who actually claimed to understand The Viper? What if she got them to talk? Verya remembered how Cody Rhodes had talked about understanding Randy.

_Why am I doing this?_ she wondered. Talking to Cody about Randy's psychological makeup after what had happened would be just short of suicide. Still, it looked like it was the only way to understand her enemy…and perhaps the only way to end this feud.

"Verya," John's soft voice startled her out of her reverie. "We're here."

The two were in front of Verya's room. He faced her, a serious, lamenting expression on his face.

"Oh, John," she whispered, embracing him. "I love you."

They kissed and after they broke apart, he looked happier. The beginnings of a smile curled his lips as he looked upon her. "I love you too," he uttered solemnly. "See ya in the morning, k?"

"Night."

"Good night, Verya." With a final, brief kiss, Verya went into her room and John left for his. Silently, Verya peered back out, watching him walk away. It was a strange feeling, like things would never be the same again.

The plan Verya had thought up made her restless. She spent less than five minutes in the room she once more shared with Maryse. Making sure she looked presentable, Verya left in search of Cody Rhodes, in hopes of catching him without Ted DiBiase or Randy Orton. If he was alone, she felt sure she could talk him out of violent action. If not, she had no idea what he would do.

She entered the lounge of the hotel and immediately dove back around the corner. Randy Orton was facing away from her, his hands on Cody and Ted's shoulders. He seemed to be talking to them. Ted had been looking intently at Randy's face. Cody's eyes, however, were wandering, and it just happened that at the moment Verya had rounded the corner, he was looking at her exact location. Their eyes had connected for a millisecond before Verya hid again.

Realizing what she had done, she instantly looked out again, despite not being a gambling person, praying that Cody hadn't raised the alarm. He hadn't, but he was staring at her with a carefully blank expression. Seeing her look out, he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

Quickly, Verya pressed a single finger to her lips and then switched to a mock praying position. Hopefully, the message was clear: "Please, Cody, don't tell Randy you saw me."

Cody closed his eyes briefly and, when he opened them, he looked away, back to Randy's face. Randy seemingly inquired about what he was looking at, because Cody shook his head and didn't look away from his mentor's face again for a while.

When he finally did look back at her, Verya tried desperately to convey "Can I talk to you later? Don't tell anyone." She couldn't tell if it worked or not because Cody's face was as blank as a piece of paper in front of a writer with writer's block. Eventually, they all turned away from her and stepped into the elevator.

Verya went back to her place behind the corner, her back flat against the wall. She breathed in and out deeply, still questioning her actions. Suddenly, an impulse flashed in her mind and, without thinking, she acted on it. Dashing to the stairs, she leapt up them three at a time, peering into every hall until she got to the third floor, where she saw Randy, Ted, and Cody going into their respective rooms. Cody, she noticed, kept looking around. She quickly poked her head out from behind the wall where the stairs were. Cody noticed her and immediately calmed. He went into the room and the hallway was soon deserted.

"What?" Verya retrieved her head and slumped to the floor. "This doesn't make any sense," she complained. Still, she figured she would wait a few minutes before jumping to conclusions.

It was barely a minute later that she heard hurried footsteps and Cody appeared in front of her.

Verya scrambled up, startled. "Cody!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, taking her arm roughly. "If you want me to get a message, that is _not_ the way to do it! You could have been seen!"

"You didn't tell them, did you?"

He frowned at her. "No, and you're lucky you chose me to talk to, because Ted would definitely have given you away." He peered at her wryly. "What did you want to talk about, anyway?"

Verya glanced up and down the hallway anxiously. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Cody pressed his lips together but nodded after a moment of deliberation. Still holding her arm in his unyielding grip, he led her down the stairs to the second floor. Looking around, he swiftly yanked open the door to a cleaning closet, which blessedly had its own light. Turning it on, he finally released the Diva, positioning them so that Verya was further in the closet and Cody had his back to the door, which he closed.

"Now," he said, facing her, "what?"

Verya bit her lip. Suddenly this didn't seem like a good idea. She looked up at Cody. He was staring at her, his expression filled with both hostility and curiosity. Soon, curiosity won the better.

Cody sighed. "Listen, I…I'm sorry for the part I played in Randy's whole scheme thing. But, it's just…I mean, you wouldn't understand. My relationship with Randy, as well as Ted's, isn't something I can back out on at any time." He shook his head. "Oh, man, if he knew I was here with you…" he trailed off, pressing his lips together. Then, he looked back at her. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? Just know that unless I'm with Randy, I will never be openly hostile towards you. You can always talk to me." He grinned. "If, that is, you can get the message across with a little more subtlety."

Verya smiled. "I'll try." She met Cody's blue-green eyes. "Cody, I wanted to talk to you about – well, about Randy."

Cody nodded. "I guessed as much. Anything specific or just generally?"

Verya began to voice her thoughts. At first she was careful about what she revealed, but soon everything she had ever thought about Randy came spilling out. Cody was one of the best listeners she had ever spoken to. He nodded at the right moments, made eye contact when she sought it, and most of all looked incredibly interested.

She finished her recollection and sighed deeply. "The thing I don't understand is, what does he want from me, Cody? He acts nice one day and then jumps me in the hallway the next. What am I supposed to do?"

Cody gave her a half smile. "You know what he wants," he replied softly. "He wants you to stop dating John."

"But," Verya started to protest when Cody placed a finger to her lips firmly.

"No, Verya. You know that's what he wants. Now, the other question is, how far are you willing to go with John?" He took his finger away but stepped forward instead.

Verya kept her ground. "Well, I like John and John likes me," she said defensively.

"I know," Cody conceded. "I can tell, even if Randy denies it. But the point is, Randy will not stop until he gets what he wants. Look at the way he obsessively hunts after the championship." He took one more step. Though they weren't touching, his lips were at her ear as he asked, "How far are you and John willing to take this despite what Randy will do?"

Verya closed her eyes. "But why, Cody? Why does he do it?"

Cody sighed and took a slight step back. "Randy, you mean?"

"Yes." Verya leaned sideways against the wall.

"Verya, look at me," he said, and she felt him take hold of her shoulders.

Obediently, she opened her eyes. Their faces were inches away and their stares intense.

Cody hesitated before saying, "Everything Randy has exposed to you is his character. Yes, he has a nice part and a very nasty part. It's up to you which one you provoke. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Then, she leaned forward and slipped her arms around his waist. Though he seemed surprised, he got over it very quickly, and returned the embrace warmly.

"Were they ever friends?" Verya asked. "John and Randy, I mean."

"In the beginning, I believe," Cody said. "But they quickly turned into enemies. Various reasons," he said quickly as she opened her mouth. "You can ask John about it; I don't feel I have the right to talk about it."

"Fair enough," she agreed.

Suddenly, the door opened. Swiftly, they broke apart only to find that it was the janitor.

"Oh, get a room, you lovebirds," he snapped, ushering them out of the closet.

"That _is_ a room, you moron!" Cody bit back sharply. "Let's go, Verya." He wrapped an arm firmly around her waist and began to lead her back to the stairs. Slowly, they began to climb back up to the third floor.

"But you talk about Randy like you really, well, _understand_ him," Verya prompted.

"Yeah. I think I'm one of the few people in this world who can claim that," Cody agreed.

"So…what is there to understand?"

Cody sighed. After a few seconds, he said, "There's just so much, and the way it fits together is quite…delicate. You really have to get to know him before asking."

They were so focused on climbing the stairs thoughtfully that they didn't notice who was at the top of them until they nearly walked straight into him.

"Oh, shit!" Cody said, stumbling back and nearly tripping.

"What is the meaning of this?" Randy demanded softly.

Verya stared at him, aghast. She thought quickly, but Cody beat her to it.

"Oh, don't worry, Randy, Verya just ran into me while I was downstairs and she asked me if I had the script for a show next month. Because, you know, you and she are tag-team partners against Kofi Kingston and, well, me." Cody rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Randy at first narrowed his eyes and then smirked. After a minute, he scoffed and said, "Well, _that_ is going to be interesting, isn't it?" He looked at Verya for a second and turned, walking away silently.

Verya and Cody looked at each other and simultaneously let out the breaths they had been holding. They smiled and hugged briefly.

"Phew," Cody said, looking around with relief. "I thought we were fucked right there."

"Yeah, so did I," Verya agreed, smiling at him. "How did you do that?"

Cody laughed. "I've bullshitted enough people in my life that I feel confident enough to bullshit Randy, too." He lifted his gaze to Verya's eyes. "I know you're going to ask why I would risk it."

Verya nodded slowly. "Why?" she asked softly.

Cody held her gaze for a few seconds longer before dropping it. "Let's just say a lot of interesting events revolve around you, Verya," he said quietly. Then, he looked up again. "Let's get to our rooms."

They parted ways and Verya made her way back to her room, feeling none too enlightened. She really would have to make a point of talking to Cody again and this time centering the topic of discussion more on Randy.


	12. Chapter 12: What's In A Name?

Verya and John went out to lunch at a nearby restaurant before heading over to the airport. Unfortunately, they had not been able to get seats next to each other on the plane, so they spent the time they could together after going through security in the waiting area.

"John, I gotta go to the bathroom, I'll be back soon," Verya said, standing up.

John smiled at her and kissed her hand. "Hurry back," he said, and then turned back to his conversation with Matt Hardy and Chris Masters.

Verya left her bags and made her way over to the bathroom. As she walked, she noticed Cody Rhodes break away from Ted DiBiase, Randy Orton, and Edge and start walking towards her. She looked over at the group. No one's eyes followed him.

Verya turned the corner and waited a few seconds. Cody soon caught up with her.

"What's up?" he said easily.

"Let me guess. You're going to the bathroom," she said.

He smiled. "Of course. Listen, do you know who you're sitting next to?"

"No; who?"

Cody looked around uneasily. "Well, let me put it this way. What's your seat?"

"First class, row 3, seat A. Why?"

He nodded. "Uh huh. Randy's seat B."

Verya groaned, leaning against the wall and running a hand through her dark hair. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope," Cody said, smiling sympathetically. "But listen, I'm across the aisle from you and I'd be willing to trade seats with John if you wanted."

Verya thought about it seriously. _What could he possibly do on a plane?_ she reasoned. "No, it's alright, Cody. He's bound to get suspicious if you do. And besides, we'll be on a plane. What could happen?"

Cody raised his eyebrows and muttered, "You have no idea." He cleared his throat. Louder, he said, "Well, if you're sure, Verya. I mean, it would be no trouble."

Verya smiled. "Don't you think Randy's going to notice if you keep helping me like this? I mean, it was only yesterday that he caught us together on the stairs and you defended me. Today, if you switch seats with John without a good reason – which I doubt you have – he's bound to get suspicious."

Cody nodded, frowning. "You're right. He probably would." He thought for a minute. "But listen, if you need help in some way, I'll be right across the aisle, so if you gave me some signal, I could, you know…distract him or something."

"Good idea. Thanks, Cody." She paused. "What kind of signal are you thinking of?"

He looked around. "Tell him you need to go to the bathroom. If he doesn't let you, just keep pressing the issue. Say it repeatedly. I'll get it."

Verya looked at him wryly. "What if I really do need to go to the bathroom?"

Cody smiled and shrugged. "It's not a long trip. Just go now."

Verya nodded. "Good idea." Waving to Cody, she went into the bathroom. When she came back out two minutes later, he was back at Randy's side, listening intently to what he was saying. Still, as she walked past him, he winked at her, his expression never changing.

"Hey, what took you so long?" asked John when she came back. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his muscular arms around her waist.

Verya laughed. "I missed you, too."

"Seriously, though."

"Sometimes, John, girls take a little longer than normal in the bathroom. The reason for that is need-to-know information."

"Let me guess," he said, grinning, "I don't need to know."

"No," she agreed, "you don't." She leaned backwards into his embrace.

Triple H had joined their group since she left. He smiled at them. "You two are so cute," he commented.

Verya blushed. "Where's Stephanie, Hunter?"

"She went to go talk to Kofi. Oh," he said, his expression changing, "about Kofi. Guess what?"

"What?" she asked.

"Steph said you and Orton are tag-teaming against him and Rhodes."

John swore softly into Verya's hair.

Verya tried not to let her expression give her thoughts away. "Great," she said flatly. "Did Creative make that up by themselves?"

"You mean, were they influenced?" Hunter said. "All I know is that Cody Rhodes was seen talking to them about something. Talking for a long time."

"Was seen? Was seen by whom?"

"Oh, Shawn."

"Say what?" Shawn's voice came from behind her.

Verya turned, John turning with her. Shawn Michaels stood directly behind her, his bags hanging from one hand and a coke in the other.

"What about me?" Shawn demanded again.

"You saw Cody Rhodes with some members of Creative?" Verya asked, her heartbeat skyrocketing. She hoped John didn't notice.

"Oh, yeah," Shawn confirmed. "I didn't hear what he was saying, but yeah."

_Well, at least Randy has nothing on him for defending me,_ Verya thought, although a match tag-teaming with Randy was just about her idea of a recipe for disaster.

She sighed. John mimicked her, pulling her closer to him.

"You'll be fine, Verya," said Matt Hardy. "You'll just show him what a great tag-team partner you are."

"You bet your ass he's going to pull that blind tag trick on her, though," Chris Masters warned. "Whether you want to tag in or not, if Randy decides he wants to get out of the match, that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Randy's an asshole," Hunter said, finality in his tone. "Now, can we change the topic, please?"

There were murmurs of agreement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the flight for Los Angeles, California, is about ready to accept passengers. First class passengers may now begin to board."

"Not much time for conversation after all," said John as he, Verya, and Hunter stood up.

"Time to go," whooped Shawn, swinging his bags wildly and galloping to the gateway.

"Crazy," muttered Hunter as he followed his DX partner. "Absolutely insane."

"Let's go," Verya said, taking John's hand.

"Just a moment," he said, smiling, taking his hand back. He stooped and picked up not only his own bags, but also Verya's.

"You didn't have to do that," she told him.

"I wanted to," he retorted. "Champions get what they want. And, as you know, the champ is here!"

"Thank you, John."

"You're welcome."

Together, they walked over to the gateway, lining up behind Shawn and Hunter, who were almost first.

Verya heard familiar deep tones behind them and glanced over her shoulder. Randy and Legacy were directly behind them. She turned quickly, instinctively pressing closer to John.

They got through the gateway and made their way into the plane. John put the bags up and walked Verya to her seat, staying a minute to talk.

"Well, this is it," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I won't see you for an entire five hours."

"I can hardly imagine," Verya teased, sitting in her comfortable leather seat. "Well, I'll see you later, John."

He smiled, but didn't get a chance to reply as Verya's row-mate showed up.

Provocatively close, Randy growled, "You're blocking my way to my seat, _Cena_."

John straightened up and Randy did the same, taking advantage of his superior height.

John wasn't so easily intimidated. "You can wait a few more seconds to sit your lazy ass down, _Orton_." Turning back to Verya, he blew a kiss and said, "See ya." He sent one more glare at The Viper before turning and finding his own seat.

Randy put his bags up and then, looking incredulously at Verya, appeared to check his ticket again before gingerly sitting down next to her. "Well," he said lowly, "I guess we're sitting next to each other."

Verya looked up as Cody Rhodes took his seat across the aisle. "I'm so very glad you realized that, Randal."

A look of surprise flickered across his face. "Nobody calls me Randal," he said, a disbelieving note in his voice.

"I just did," Verya pointed out coldly. She pointedly turned away from him.

"Verya." His soft but insistent touch on her shoulder made her turn. "Would you listen to what I have to say?" His steel blue eyes seemed to sparkle as Verya snapped up the window shade, letting in the bright sunlight.

Anger flashed through her. She leaned over the armrest separating their seats, glaring straight into his eyes. Her voice soft enough so only he could hear, Verya demanded, "Why should I listen to what _you_ have to say? Huh, Randal? You have done unspeakable things to me; with luck, I have gotten away without too much injury, physiological or psychological. It could have been much, much worse; I realize that. I also realize that you would do it again if you thought you could get away with it. You would do it right here, right now. Admit it, Randal. You would."

He did not drop his gaze, though the edge of his mouth twitched. "Look, Verya," he said, the volume of his voice matching her own. He leaned forward slightly, so that their foreheads were pressed together. "I am the Legend Killer, The Viper, I am Randy Orton. I do what I want, when I want to; I answer to _no one_."

Verya was sure he would have said more, but she interrupted him. "And yet you still expect me to treat you like you're a chivalrous, gentle, caring man. You can't have the best of both worlds, Randal. You need to choose a side and stick with it."

His glare intensified. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. Then, with a sigh, he growled, "_Don't_ call me Randal!"

"Well, you better give me a damn good reason to call you by your cute little nickname or I swear I will call you Randal for the rest of the time I have to talk or refer to you."

He leaned further forward, pressing her back. "You want a reason? You want a reason for you to call me what I want to be called?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I do!"

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should take into account that all those times I terrorized you before, I wasn't trying. I can make your life a living hell, Verya! You have no idea what I can ―"

Their voices had risen to subdued shouting and Edge, who was making his way over to his seat behind them, interfered.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he said, leaning over them. "Guys! Calm down! Are you seriously arguing about a name?"

That was what it seemed like on the surface, but both Verya and Randy knew perfectly well it was much more than that. At this point, this argument was really about who was dominant in this feud. It may have seemed petty, but Verya knew that if she agreed to call Randy what he wanted to be called, she would be admitting to him that he truly could do what he wanted to whomever he wanted. Her stubbornly calling him Randal was her way of telling him that she wouldn't let him screw around with her and John, and that she would fight back to the best of her ability. By the looks of it, he understood exactly what was meant.

"We don't have arguments at the Palace of Wisdom," said John Morrison, running a hand through his hair and then impressively taking off his sunglasses as he came up behind Edge.

Edge looked around and gave him a weird look. "You know, for a moment there, I thought you were going to say you didn't have names at the Palace of Wisdom."

John Morrison smirked. "Don't need 'em."

"You know, this is a perfect moment for The Rock to jump out and scream that it doesn't matter what you need," said a reminiscing Miz, pushing John Morrison into Edge.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK!"

Everyone in the first class section nearly jumped out of their skins at the ear-splitting yell.

"HOLY-SHIT-IT'S-THE-ROCK!" screamed Edge in one shallow breath.

Indeed, it was The Rock. He stood impressively, pushing his sunglasses down his nose and staring around at the rest of them. "What in the blue hell are all you looking at?" he demanded.

"We're looking at y―" started Ted next to Cody quickly, hoping to get it in before the inevitable happened. No such luck.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING AT!" The Rock yelled, whipping off his sunglasses completely and glaring at Ted. "Now, if you could smell what The Rock is cooking…"

"We can't smell what The Rock is cooking at the Palace of Wisdom," John Morrison said quickly.

"Oh my god," Randy muttered next to Verya.

For once, Verya agreed with him. It looked like chaos was about to erupt.

"Hey, Rock, why are you here?" Hunter asked from two rows behind Verya and Randy.

The Rock looked up. "Oh, hey, Hunter. Well, I'm here to travel with you guys for the next show. I hear it's going to be extravagant." He looked at Verya and Randy, who both looked away. "Anyway, Vince said I should see it. He said there's a new Diva who is more amazing than half the rest of the Diva roster put together. Now, that must be one amazing Diva."

"Oh, shit," Verya murmured.

Randy heard. Standing up partway and pulling Verya with him, he announced, "That Diva is right here. This is Verya, Rock."

Verya abruptly decided she'd had enough of him. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and slapped him across the face.

"Oooh," came from about half the observers.

"Ouch," commented The Rock. "Yeah, that's an amazing Diva, all right."

Cody was grinning. He and Verya made eye contact, and he winked.

Randy was not amused. However, they both sat down quietly because the stewardess now called for their attention for the briefing on what to do in an emergency and so on. The whole time, however, they glared at each other angrily.


	13. Chapter 13: I Quit

No words were spoken between them until the plane had come off the ground. After the city disappeared behind the white clouds, Verya finally turned back to Randy, only to find that he was staring at her coldly.

"I'm not sorry," she said flatly. "You were asking for it."

He simply shrugged. "I don't care much, as long as you stop calling me Randal."

"No," she said. "You don't deserve my submission, Randal."

Randy visibly gritted his teeth. "I _strongly_ advise you to call me what I want to be called," he said quietly.

"I strongly advise you to drop it, or I'll have no problem slapping you again," Verya shot back.

Randy smirked. "You're not the first with the slapping," he said, smiling wryly. "As I recall, I introduced it first."

Verya leaned forward, the volume of her voice dropping dramatically. "Oh, yes?" she whispered. "I suppose you mean the time when Cody held me for your convenience, because you weren't brave enough to slap me when I had my hands free?"

Randy followed her lead, also leaning in and lowering his voice. "I wanted to ensure you'd get the message."

"How about you just tell me, right here, right now?"

"This is the message, Verya: don't mess with me. If you do, you will rue it for the rest of your life." His steel blue eyes glinted grey as he spoke.

Verya turned her body towards him. "Are you threatening me?" she breathed.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

She made a move to slap him but he was ready for it. He grabbed her wrist as her hand rapidly approached his face and, with it, pulled her towards him. The other hand put up the armrest that separated their seats.

Before she could stop him, Randy slipped his arm around her waist and pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, she resisted, but the emotion behind it was too great to ignore and she let him kiss her. His tongue probed her lips and, after a moment's hesitation, she opened up to him. He pushed in further, and Verya leaned back, trying to break the kiss. His strong arms held her in place, one encircling her waist and the other pressing on her back.

Verya, growing alarmed, got her hands in between them and pushed on his chest hard. Surprised, he drew back and she used the opening to break his grip on her. Flattening her back against the wall and window, she caught her breath and glanced over at Cody Rhodes, who was slouching with his eyes closed and listening to an iPod.

"Randy, I have to go to the bathroom," she said clearly.

Randy looked surprised at first but then smirked, leaning back and relaxing. "So, all I have to do to make you do what I want is kiss you," he said.

It took Verya a moment to realize that she had forgotten to call him Randal. She cursed inwardly but shrugged it off. "Whatever. Move and let me go to the bathroom."

He grinned and slouched against his seat, putting up his knees against the back of the seat in front of him, thus blocking Verya's path. "Or what?" he challenged.

"Or I'll break your legs," Verya said flatly. "I have to go to the bathroom, Orton."

Cody finally heard. He whipped the earbuds out of his ears and sat up, glancing over at them. "Hey, Randy, I just remembered something," he called across the aisle.

Randy looked over lazily, not moving an inch. "Yeah?"

"You know the match in three weeks? The handicap? The special ref is Triple H."

Randy sat up straight, an astounded expression flashing across his face. "What?" he gasped.

Verya, meanwhile, took the opportunity to lunge across Randy's seat and get in aisle. He realized she had gotten out and actually reached towards her, but realized she was now in plain view, so he let her go, preferring to question Cody about this new development.

As for Verya, she couldn't care less about a handicap in three weeks. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had just happened a minute ago. She did actually go into the bathroom and locked the door but she simply leaned against the sink and looked up into the mirror. She inhaled and realized she now had Randy's cologne all over her.

"Ok. Calm down," she told herself quietly. She took in two deep breaths and unlocked the door, stepping outside and nearly walking into Hunter.

"Hey," he said, looking back from where he came, "is he giving you trouble?"

Verya sighed. "Much trouble. Which is why I came to the bathroom."

Hunter nodded. "Well, you know where the sensitive spot for any man is." He did the DX crotch chop as well as he could in the cramped aisle way.

Verya laughed and nodded. "Thanks, Hunter." She sidestepped him and made her way back to her seat, squeezing past a loitering John Morrison.

"I am the Shaman of Sexy," he said, facing her as she tried to make her way past. "Be jealous."

She stopped. "John, would you please move?"

He smirked. "You can make it." He pressed to the side of The Miz's seat.

Verya rolled her eyes. "I suppose you have these kinds of scenarios all the time at the Palace of Wisdom," she said, deciding to put up with him and turning sideways to get past.

"Don't you know it," he said, leaning forward when she was right in front of him, so that the entirety of their bodies were touching. "And don't you love it."

"See ya, Morrison," Verya said over her shoulder when she had finally gotten through.

"You certainly will," came the reply.

Verya was now faced with the challenge of getting through Randy to her seat. He had once more assumed the slouched position he had before, with his legs propped up against the seat in front.

"Randal," she said simply.

He looked up, smiling venomously at her. "Yes, sexy?"

Verya rolled her eyes. "Put your feet down so I can get to my seat."

"You want to get to your seat? Fine." In a movement barely visible, he suddenly sat up, grabbed her around the waist with both arms, and pulled her down forcefully onto his lap.

After Verya had caught her breath, she said, "Randal, I _demand_ that you let me go so I can get to my seat."

"You _demand_, huh?" His voice was low and smug in her ear. "Well, I _demand_ that you call me Randy."

"I swear, _Randal_, if you don't let go of me, I will ―"

"What? Because I swear to you that if you don't start following my rules, starting with my name, I will never let go of you." He snorted. "You can spend the rest of the entire trip on my lap, for all I care."

Verya shifted, trying to break his grip.

"Are you trying to give me a lap dance?" he accused.

"Randal!"

He laughed and shifted position, so that his back was pressed against the back of the seat and she sat right in between his legs. Then, he lifted his own muscular legs and entwined them with Verya's, binding her that much better to him. His two-armed grip around her waist tightened, pressing her back against his chest and abs.

Though she would never admit it, Verya's heart rate skyrocketed. Still, she forced steel into her tone as she said, "Randal, let me go _now_."

"Not a chance. Not until you give in."

"No, Randal."

"My name is Randy."

"I'm glad you realized it."

He simply inhaled the scent of her hair wordlessly.

Verya huffed angrily. "How long are you going to keep me like this?"

There was a smile in his voice as Randy said, "I already told you."

Verya groaned. She looked around for Cody, who was facing Ted, talking animatedly. She examined her options. She could stay sitting like this until Randy's willpower burned out or until the trip ended. She could try to fight out of it, but that was strictly for inside the ring (or at least not on a plane). She could call for help, but that would bring publicity and a potentially embarrassing situation.

The main thing Verya worried about was John. If John saw them like this, he would immediately take action, though what action specifically she didn't know. If John heard about it from someone else, he would again most likely do something out of anger.

Verya sighed deeply. _Somebody_ had to quit in an "I Quit" match and Randy wasn't going to. "Ok, Randy. I quit. I give up."

He froze with surprise but quickly laughed. "What is my name?" he sang, the grin obvious in his voice.

"Randy, Randy, Randy," Verya muttered. "Now, let go of me."

He did so and Verya nearly fell in her haste to get out of his seat and into hers.


	14. Chapter 14: Not Afraid

Once in her seat, Verya buckled her seatbelt securely and turned away, staring out the window and taking in deep breaths to slow her heart rate. After a few minutes, she was almost back to normal. At her side, Randy sat, still and silent.

Verya dared a glance at him. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. His expression was curiously relaxed, something Verya had never seen on his face before. His lips were curved in the slightest of smiles, casting soft light on his entire face. Without thinking, she smiled in response. Just looking, observing his angled, exotic face made her forget. Her mind went blank and all she knew in the world was his physical being.

"Um, Verya?" a soft voice asked.

Startled, she quickly looked up, jerked out of her reverie. "John!" she said, pure joy in her voice.

He smiled slightly. "Everything alright here?"

She nodded. "Pretty much." It wasn't exactly true, but nothing terribly dramatic had happened…yet.

"Good. I just wanted to make sure you were ok." His smile disappeared, replaced by a controlled look both of worry and of veiled anger. "What was that with the close proximity a few minutes ago?"

Verya's jaw dropped a couple inches. "Did you _see_ that?"

"No, I heard about it." His tone was dark.

Verya told him briefly and quickly about the Randal/Randy business.

When she was finished, John simply pressed his lips together, turning slightly pale, and began to violently shake Randy.

"What, what?" exclaimed Randy, his eyes flashing open as he was shaken awake. "Oh, it's you," he added none too eagerly upon recognizing John.

"Damn right it's me, and I think you owe me an explanation," John said, hatred contorting his features.

"Excuse me?" Randy sounded completely unwilling to offer any kind of explanation whatsoever. His brows were furrowed, though whether it was from confusion or from anger, Verya couldn't tell.

"What was that shit with _my_ girlfriend a few minutes ago?" John demanded, the volume of his voice rising with his wrath.

Randy's lips twisted into a contemptuous sneer. "Looks like you can't protect what's yours, huh, Johnny boy?" He scoffed. "You want to know what _that shit_ with _your_ girlfriend was? Well, your sexy little Verya here and I had a bit of a disagreement. So I had to teach her a lesson."

Verya inhaled sharply, but John beat her to the punch.

Ready as ever with a comeback, John said fiercely, "Oh, really, Orton? Well, Verya told me all about your so-called disagreement while you were sleeping your lazy ass away. And I think that you acted way out of proportion. In fact, I couldn't possibly think of any even faintly plausible reason for you to be touching _my_ girlfriend like you did!"

"She's your girlfriend, not your wife," Randy asserted. "I can touch her however I want."

John drew himself up to his full height, his hands forming fists, causing his forearm and upper arm muscles to flex powerfully. "You wanna say that again?" he invited quietly.

Randy smirked and opened his mouth, probably to repeat that exact phrase, but a hand from the seat behind him snaked around and stopped the sound before it came out.

"I wouldn't advise it," said Edge, his face appearing in the space between Randy's seat and Verya's. "Seriously, guys, it's not worth it. I don't think you're even remotely allowed to start a fight on a plane. Especially one that's airborne."

"Yeah, Randy, it's not worth it," agreed Cody, leaning out from behind John.

Randy and John glared at each other wordlessly. The intensity of the hatred was almost tangible between them. Both were completely unmoving and Edge slowly withdrew his hand. The background noises seemed to melt away. Both men's eyes glowed with unsuppressed emotions.

"Ice, ice, baby," whispered Cody finally, making everyone, including John and Randy, frown and look at him. He laughed softly. "Yo, man, let's get outta here. Word to your mother. Ice, ice, baby, too cold, too cold." With that, he stood up and walked away.

"What?" Edge asked, a blank look on his face.

"Was that Vanilla Ice?" Randy said softly.

"Yeah. 'Ice Ice Baby,'" confirmed John, looking after Cody with a confused expression.

"Let's get gone, walk it out, just like that, that's what I'm talkin' about," sang Verya, beginning to catch wind of Cody's game (the main plan of it which was to musically distract them).

She smiled sheepishly as everyone turned to stare at her. "I got it! What?"

Randy scowled at her as he recognized her tone and words as something he had said to Ric Flair while he was still in Evolution.

"Awwwww snap!" whooped The Miz, dancing past them to talk to The Rock.

"What is with everyone today?" Ted wondered, turning away and shaking his head.

"I'm bringin' sexy back, _yeah_!" sang John Morrison, dancing after The Miz. "Excuse me, Cena."

"What the hell," muttered John Cena, staring after John Morrison.

John and Randy looked at each other, identical expressions of disbelief on their faces. Then, it clicked in a second and they looked away, the disbelief chased away by resentment faster than wildfire in a dry forest with favorable wind.

"You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down," sang Mickie from next to Edge.

John began to rap "Right Now," and Randy, not to be outdone, began singing Metallica's "All Nightmare Long." The songs, very nearly complete opposites, escalated in volume as each superstar tried to make his voice heard above the rest.

"Cause we hunt you down without mercy, hunt you down all nightmare long," Randy sang, half yelling.

"Cause this track's got a vibe to chill to, enjoy life for a minute, it's not gonna kill you," John rapped loudly.

Hunter had walked up and was listening to this with a carefully stoic expression. He and Edge looked at each other, shook their heads, and raised their eyebrows.

_Whatever that meant,_ Verya thought. She didn't have to wonder long, though, because Edge once more put his hand over Randy's mouth and Hunter did the same to John.

"You are really very, very loud," Hunter said. "If you want a song battle, fine. Just not on a plane and not so loud. Ok?"

Randy shook off Edge's hand. "I – we didn't even start this."

Hunter took back his hand as John nearly bit it in his eagerness to concur. "Yeah, we didn't start this whole singing business," The Champ agreed fiercely. "That was Cody."

Cody had just come up. Smiling innocently, he said, "Oh, don't look at me. I didn't do anything." He squeezed past John to his seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are passing through a series of unpredictable air currents. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts buckled until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign again. Thank you." The announcement ended.

The superstars quickly scattered to their seats. When the area was clear, Randy turned with a curious expression to Verya.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"What was what about?" she replied innocently.

"The singing!"

Verya sighed. "Look, Randy, if Cody hadn't interfered, and if I hadn't continued his work, you two would have torn each other apart."

Randy immediately opened his mouth but then closed it, glancing around wryly.

Instantly suspicious, Verya asked slowly, "What? What are you looking around for?"

Randy turned back to her, his steel blue eyes glinting. "You bring up an interesting point, Verya," he remarked quietly. "Why did Cody do that? It's, well, most unlike him." There was a light in his eyes that promised retribution.

_Oh. Shit._ "Come off it, Orton," Verya scoffed, hoping her voice gave nothing away. "What, you think that Cody Rhodes is turning on you? Don't be ridiculous."

"You're awfully defensive of him all of a sudden," Randy noted, his eyes narrowing.

Verya leaned forward, letting anger seep into her voice. "In case you didn't notice, _Randy_, Cody helped you ambush me, helped you beat the hell out of me. And now you think that he going on the defensive against you with me and John?"

It was the right thing to say, she saw instantly. Randy dropped his gaze and turned away, muttering something indecipherable. He crossed his arms and slouched back against the back of his chair, closing his eyes.

Satisfied, Verya relaxed, taking out one of the books she had brought with her. She only just opened it when Randy interrupted her.

"So, what is it like, dating John?" he asked, not moving an inch.

Verya looked at him and sighed, closing the book. "What?"

"You heard."

She shifted, a bit uncomfortable. "Well, we've only just started dating, you know."

"I'm not asking what he's like in bed."

"Well, good!"

"I'm just interested, because I'm guessing it's not exactly the same as what it's like wrestling him."

"No, you're right about that." Verya paused, thinking. "Well, what do you want to know? He's a good boyfriend. He's nice, caring ―"

"Overprotective," helped Randy, smiling slightly.

Verya shot a glare at him, which had no effect on him, as his eyes were still closed. "He's as protective as the circumstances require."

Randy pressed his lips together but said nothing.

Verya waited about half a minute before turning her attention back to her book. She had barely gotten to the second page before Randy spoke again.

"I'm curious. Aren't you even the slightest bit afraid that management is going to put you in the main events soon? As in, the one-on-one main events? As in, against people like myself?"

Sighing, Verya looked up from her book. "Afraid? No, Randy. Probably contrary to what you think, I'm not afraid of you."

He smiled. "You will be."

Verya lowered her eyes back to her book, dropping the issue. The sadistic smile never quite faded from his lips the entire journey.


	15. Chapter 15: It'll Be Ok

It was almost time for the tag-team match. Verya's partner, none other than Randy, was leaning against a wall, watching her carefully. Their opponents, Cody Rhodes and Kofi Kingston, were taking turns first glaring at each other and then glancing at Verya.

Verya and Randy had just come from a scripted, on-camera segment where they uneasily agreed to put aside their differences for this match. John had interrupted and threatened Randy that if there was any funny business during the match, The Champ would personally beat the hell out of him. The segment ended with Randy grinning demoniacally.

"Well," Verya said with a sigh, "it's almost that time of day, guys."

All three opened their mouths to say something but thought better of it and resorted to glaring at each other. Randy, Verya noticed, was not only watching Kofi carefully, but also observing Cody.

Their match was announced. Cody and Kofi went out first, to Kofi's music. After a minute, Randy and Verya (to his music) followed.

Verya's entrance, like Kofi's, was energetic. Randy's, like Cody's, was not. Verya ignored Randy, doing her own entrance, all the while feeling his stare on her back as he proceeded after her more slowly.

Randy appeared to want to start for them, but when Kofi pushed Cody in, he glanced around, as if wanting to let Verya start; however, the bell rang and Randy had to deal with it. He and Cody circled a few times without rushing each other. Then, abruptly, Randy turned and tagged Verya on the shoulder.

Verya glared at him wordlessly but stepped through the ropes. As soon as she was in the ring, Cody rushed her, quickly grappling for a chokehold. Verya shoved him hard and they broke apart. After a second, Verya lunged forward, getting a takedown. She tried to go for a leg submission but he kicked out of it, catching her under the chin.

Though dazed, she still had enough presence of mind to roll away and not let Cody get the distinct advantage. When he had her in the corner, she fought out of it. Finally, she let him hurl her into the ropes. She went for the same thing he did: a clothesline that quickly turned into a devastating double-clothesline.

Cody's powerful strike threw her backwards so that she just barely avoided falling on her next or head, which could easily have led to serious injury. As it was, Verya could barely think straight. Luckily for her, Cody was in the same way.

Verya dragged herself back to her corner and hit Randy on the side of the leg, tagging him into the match. She rolled out of the ring and knelt at the corner, getting her bearings and looking after the match.

Cody had also managed to make the tag, bringing his partner, Kofi Kingston, in. He and Randy were at each other's throats in no time, though Randy almost instantly got the advantage with his signature chokehold. As she commentators would likely remark, he was intent on wearing Kofi down. Indeed, Kofi was in a bad way. Randy's chokehold was difficult to force out of at its worst, and this seemed to be one of Randy's better days.

Verya stood, leaning on the top rope heavily, wondering how long this was going to go on. Thankfully, she didn't have to wonder long. Kofi was apparently not down with the idea of losing consciousness in the ring to the Orton chokehold. He suddenly grabbed both of Randy's legs and threw himself backwards, falling heavily on top of Randy. The fall broke the hold and, his goal achieved, Kofi rolled off of his opponent, breathing heavily, on his hands and knees.

Randy, infuriated, scrambled up and backed into a corner. He leapt out of it and, sprinting two or three steps, prepared to execute the most powerful kick in the history of the WWE: the punt.

Kofi may have been worn out but he was neither deaf nor blind. He rolled partially out of the way and Randy's foot caught him not in the head, but squarely in the forearm and elbow.

Kofi rolled, grimacing, a gasp of pain escaping from his lips. Randy, recovering, turned slowly, his characteristic psychotic expression on his face. His steel blue eyes glinted as he saw the way his opponent cradled his arm. And so began the end for Kofi Kingston.

Of course, The Viper focused his methodical attack on Kofi's injured arm. It was long, drawn out, and appeared to be absolutely excruciating for Kofi. Finally, it all ended with the classic RKO and the three-count.

Randy's music blasted through the speakers as he rolled off of Kofi's still body and stood, his fist raised in triumph. Verya went into the ring and turned, getting on the middle ropes and straddling the corner, smiling and beckoning to the crowd. It was almost funny, watching their mixed reaction, as though they didn't know whether to cheer or to boo. Still, she supposed it must have been confusing, with a heel and a face on either side.

Verya and Randy proceeded together off stage, high-fiving but otherwise not touching, though keeping a close distance. It was only when they had already gotten up the ramp and were about to go off completely that Randy spring his attack.

He stopped her and, as she turned, RKOed her suddenly. Though it was a powerful and perfect execution, he did it carefully, driving her face into his shoulder and pectoral muscle rather than the unforgiving floor. He left her there and departed wordlessly and swiftly.

Kofi was at her side in seconds, helping her up. "You ok?" he asked.

Verya nodded, grimacing. "I'm fine, but Randy won't be once John gets a hold of him."

Kofi made a non-committal noise but didn't comment otherwise, preferring instead to help Verya backstage. Once they were off-camera and out of sight of all the fans, he was dragged away by Evan Bourne, as they apparently had a match the next night.

Verya sat down on the floor just off stage, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall, wallowing a bit in her pain and exhaustion. On top of the flesh hurts, she also felt a headache coming on. _Perhaps the atmosphere is changing,_ she thought. She had no idea just how much the atmosphere would morph.

"Verya."

She opened her eyes, looking up into the anxious face of Cody Rhodes. "Hey, Cody," she said.

"Sorry if I beat you a little hard," he apologized, sitting down next to her. "I didn't mean for that double clothesline to happen."

Verya winced. "Neither did I."

"Was that RKO bad?" he asked, the volume of his voice dropping.

Verya sighed, smiling wryly. "No, and that surprised me. Luckily, his shoulder and chest aren't solid rock."

Cody nodded. "He won't go hard on you unless you give him a reason to."

"So, what, I'm supposed to believe he's suddenly forgiven me for going out with John?" she asked skeptically.

Cody looked away.

Verya noticed his reluctance to provide a response. "What?" she pressed.

After a moment's hesitation, Cody said slowly, "Randy doesn't blame you for your relationship with John anymore."

When he didn't continue, Verya asked quietly, "So who does he blame?"

Cody sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Well, he blames John, of course."

"He only blames John? Hasn't he ever heard the expression, 'it takes two to tango'?" Verya said angrily.

"If I were you, I would be relieved," Cody said, finally looking back at her. "At least he only blames one of you, rather than both."

He had a good point, Verya knew. However, something still made her uneasy. "So, what does he plan to do to John?" she asked as flatly as she could with all the emotions raging inside of her.

Cody opened his mouth but swiftly closed it after wisely looking around and seeing Ted DiBiase approaching.

"Hey, man, Randy said he wanted to talk to us," Ted said to Cody, casting a weird glance at Verya.

"Cool," Cody said lightly, though his expression was troubled. "I'll tell you about the script later, Verya."

Verya nodded as though that were exactly what they had been talking about all along. She waved casually to Cody as he stood and walked away with Ted.

She barely finished watching them walk away when someone else stopped in front of her.

"Hey, baby," John said, smiling down at her.

"John!" she exclaimed in delight, putting out her hand.

Smiling, he grasped it, pulling her upright with ease. "How you feeling?" he asked, concern saturating his tone.

"I'm fine; it wasn't bad," she said, waving away his worry.

"You sure?"

"Yes." Verya slipped her arms around his waist.

He had no hesitations in returning her embrace. As he pulled her closer, she looked up into his clear blue eyes.

"Don't you trust my judgment?" she teased.

He laughed. "Not nearly enough," he joked.

Verya smiled as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. She leaned into the kiss, pleasured, but she couldn't help but compare it to the urgent, needy passion of Randy's kiss in the airplane the other day. Immediately, she reprimanded herself for thinking of him and cleared her mind by inhaling John's cologne deeply.

When they broke apart, she looked up and smiled. "You smell good," she complimented him.

He smiled back. "Well, thank you." He paused, his expression growing grave. "Now, if you're alright, please excuse me, because I have an appointment with a certain viper."

"John!" Verya grabbed a handful of his shirt, fully intent on forcefully keeping him from going after Randy.

"Verya, I warned him. He disregarded my warning. He _RKOed_ you!"

"John, please, I don't want you to get hurt." Cody's implied warning had left her paranoid. After all, if there was one thing she had learned about Randy, it was that he always had a plan – and if he didn't, he had no problem improvising.

John just looked at her. "Now, that's insulting," he said, a teasing note creeping into his voice. "Do you seriously think _I'm_ going to get hurt by going after him?"

"Don't try to distract me by turning this into a joke," Verya said sternly. "Come off it, John. You know Randy always has a plan. And he blames you for our relationship. He's pissed, John, and I don't know what he plans to do to you."

"He blames me? Well, rightly so. It's not like you were the one to ask _me_ out." John shook his head. "No, Verya. If there's one thing you still have to learn about men, it's that we're all very possessive. You're mine to cherish, mine to keep, mine to protect. And that's exactly what I plan to do." Gently, he removed Verya's hand from his shirt and, pressing it briefly, dropped it and began to walk away.

Verya squared her shoulders and determinedly followed him, making not a sound. Randy was sure to have one, if not both, of Cody or Ted with him. Therefore, she couldn't let John go and face Randy alone.

Fortunately, when John turned a corner and walked right into Randy, The Viper seemed to be alone. Shouting instantly ensued as both men recognized each other and Verya hurried to break them up before they started fighting, because both looked ready to tear each other to shreds.

"John! Randy!" she yelled, trying to wedge herself in between them, for they had drawn very close to each other.

Randy immediately took the opportunity to provoke John into action. He wrapped a tattooed arm around her waist and used it to draw her behind him. The smirk playing on his face openly dared John to do something.

Verya didn't even have time to twist out of Randy's grip before John fell off the edge. He leapt at Randy, who, quick to anticipate, dodged out of the way, dragging Verya along with him.

It all happened so fast that Verya barely had time to register the bare facts in her mind, let alone interfere. Randy kept a tight grip on her while Cody and Ted appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Both wielded steel chairs, which they used swiftly and efficiently.

While this took place, Randy pressed Verya against a wall, leaning his weight against her to keep her immobile. "I told you," he hissed in her ear, "that Cena would come to regret this more than you. This is only the beginning." It sounded like an oath.

Breathing was starting to get difficult. Verya was so focused on not dying from lack of oxygen that she couldn't reply, much less resist his strength. Soon, though, he let go and left, followed closely by his Legacy members.

Verya slipped down the wall and knelt by John. He was lying still on the floor, but breathing normally. There was a cut on his head, which bled freely. She rubbed his back with one hand and wiped away blood with the other. She did nothing to hold back the tears that came, flowing as freely and as unrestrained as the blood oozing from her boyfriend's head. She wept bitterly, using her warm-up sweatshirt to try to stop the flow of blood.

After a minute, John sat up and wrapped his muscular arms around her, pressing her close. Together, they each nursed their own injuries, each seething with pain and hatred.

Eventually, their emotion-filled silence was shattered, and it was John who broke it. "It's ok. It'll be ok," he promised in a breathy whisper. "After all, we've got each other."

"You're right," conceded Verya softly. After a minute, she sighed. "Come on, John. Let's get up; we can't stay here like this forever."

"Smart," he murmured approvingly as she nudged him. He stood, bringing her up with him. Then, he let go.

"Come on," Verya said. "You go to your locker room and I'll go to mine, and we'll meet out front."

John nodded his consent and swayed.

Verya looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure you're ok?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure you're ok enough to go to the locker room and pack up by yourself?"

"I'm fine, Ver. See you soon." He turned and walked away.

Verya shrugged, going to her own locker room. She changed and packed up as quickly as she could and went out, making her way to the exit. She turned a corner and, before she could blink, was pressed up against the wall with a hand at her mouth.

"Don't make a sound," whispered Cody Rhodes in her ear.

Verya relaxed slightly and looked sideways. Randy and Ted were speaking intently, both turned mostly away from her and Cody, walking slowly. Then, they began to turn.

Cody swiftly shoved her back where she came from. Verya flattened herself against the wall, listening carefully to what was happening around the corner.

"What were you doing?" Randy asked suspiciously.

"Tying my shoe," Cody said calmly.

"Listen, we're kind of on a schedule here," Ted said, his tone annoyed. "Remember? We want to catch Cena as he's coming out of the locker room? Or did you miss that part of the plan?"

"Very funny," said Cody exasperatedly. "Look, I didn't ask my shoe to get untied, ok?"

"Ok, ok!" Randy said loudly. "What is _with_ you two? Now, _if_ you guys are done delaying, whether it be forgetting wallets or tying shoes, we can move on."

They began to walk away and Verya started sprinting. She rushed straight past them, adrenaline pumping through her veins as Randy's alarmed exclamations jerked him, Cody, and Ted into pursuit. Still, she was fairly certain they wouldn't catch her. All those medals and trophies from her many track seasons made sure of that.

Indeed, the distance between her and the Viper's Legacy was getting larger. That was when Verya saw John ahead turning a corner.

"John, run!" she yelled and, passing him, grabbed his hand, jerking him forward.

"What the hell?" He glanced over his shoulder between steps. "Oh."

"Watch out!" Verya warned, as he was about to run into Kofi Kingston, The Miz, and John Morrison.

The three superstars quickly saw what was going on. They let her and John pass.

As they were doing so, Miz yelled after them, "Don't worry, we got it!"

Verya paused and John stopped with her.

John Morrison looked at Miz.

Miz looked at Morrison.

Kofi Kingston rolled his eyes and dove at the legs of the approaching Randy Orton, tripping him.

"Thanks, guys!" John shouted as Miz and Morrison likewise engaged Cody and Ted.

Verya pulled him along again at a brisk jog. They wasted no time in getting to the hotel. Once safely in the lobby, they stopped to catch their breaths.

"Phew," John sighed, his bags on the floor and his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. "Nothing like sprinting for your goddamn life after getting pummeled by a pair of steel chairs."

Verya snorted. "No kidding. But we're safe now, I hope."

They went to the reception desk and got their rooms and keys. Miraculously, they rooms were adjacent. They went up together and said their goodbyes outside their rooms, sealing off the night with a kiss.


	16. Chapter 16: The Switch

Verya went inside and found Mickie James, who was lying on a bed with the TV on and an open laptop on her lap.

"Oh, hey, Verya," Mickie greeted. "Nice match."

"Thanks, Mickie."

"How do you feel?"

"Ok. Not too hot, but ok."

Mickie laughed. "How's John? And Randy?"

Verya gave her a shortened version of what had happened since last they spoke. Interestingly enough, Mickie had already heard a fair amount from other people. Still, she was shocked at what Randy did to her and John when nobody else was around.

"Oh my god," Mickie said for the umpteenth time when Verya had finished. "How could he _do_ that?"

Verya opened her mouth to reply but heard a crash from next door. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "That's John's room!" She bolted out of the room and pounded on the door. Apparently, it had been inefficiently closed, because she nearly feel into the room in her haste as the door obediently swung open.

The table in between the beds was knocked over and John and Randy were at each other's throats. Punches were exchanged, taken and blocked, landing and missing. Randy shoved John over a bed, making him trip and land on the floor on the other side in a heap. Randy, meanwhile, whirled around to lock gazes with an astounded Verya.

"What the hell?" Verya managed to choke out. "What is going on here?"

"Verya!" both John and Randy exclaimed in unison.

Someone gasped behind her.

Verya turned and saw Mickie, with a hand pressed to her lips. Suddenly, an idea flew into her head. "Listen, Mickie, can you take Randy into our room and I'll room with John?"

Mickie's expression darkened. "Nuh-uh, no way I'm spending a night in the same room with him again."

Verya growled in frustration. "Fine. Then I'll room with Randy here and, John, you go with Mickie next door."

"No!" John said immediately, shooting up from the floor as if it had burned him. "No, no, no!"

"Anything's better than you two going at each other," Verya snapped. "Besides, I can defend myself if necessary, John."

"You can't ―" he started, but was interrupted.

"Oh, so you don't have faith in me?" Verya demanded.

"No, Ver, I do, I just ―"

"John! Just trust me, ok?"

He stood, unmoving and silent, by the bed for a minute. He looked at Randy, who was likewise still, his gaze cast down to the floor. Then, he sighed. "All right. But, Verya, if you need me, I'll be right next door."

Verya went and got her bags and John began to move to Mickie's room. It took five more minutes to convince him that she would be fine. Finally, it was just her and Randy.

Randy finally moved, sitting down on his bed and extending his legs comfortably. "So, I guess it's just you and me," he remarked.

"Don't try to be nice; it doesn't suit you," Verya told him seriously. She began arranging her bags, rummaging around for her shampoo.

Randy laughed easily. "I'm really a nice guy, trust me." He looked at her slyly. "I'm sure Cody's told you as much."

Verya froze for a second. "What?"

"Come on, I know you're communicating with Cody behind my back and he's helping you. I know, Verya."

She straightened, staring at him. "But how ―?"

"He told me," Randy said smugly. "I told you before, Cody and I understand each other. We share a bond stronger than friendship and certainly stronger than his sense of morality."

Verya huffed angrily. "So all that help was briefed by you and had your stamp of approval on it," she said bitterly.

"Yep," confirmed Randy. "I even encouraged him to trade seats with John in the airplane. I wanted to see Cena's face. But I guess he didn't propose that to you."

"I refused it," Verya said coldly.

Randy sat up. "Why?"

"It was for Cody's protection," she snapped. "I figured you would get suspicious if he did that."

Randy snorted. "Right."

"Well, _I_ am going to shower. _You_ can do whatever you want, as long as you don't touch my stuff." With that, Verya left him, disappearing into the bathroom and locking the door securely behind her. It was time to get a little peace and wash off the sweat and blood and still stained her body. Indeed, the hot shower felt like heaven on earth. The recent turn of events was washed away along with everything else on her skin as the water pounded her body gently.

It must have been an hour before Verya emerged from the shower and realized she had neglected to bring extra clothes with her to the bathroom. After a moment's thought, she wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door, poking her head out.

"Randy," she called.

"Yeah?" he said, looking up from his laptop. He stared at her wet head.

"Could you get me the clean clothes I laid out on the chair, please? I forgot to bring them."

A mischievous smile curved his lips. "No," he said.

"What?"

"No. Go get them yourself." He closed the laptop, looking at her expectantly.

Verya swore and adjusted the towel, checking in the mirror to make sure she looked as unprovocative as possible when clad solely in a towel. Then, she stepped out into the relatively cold air.

Randy's steel blue eyes appraised her expertly as she swiftly but carefully made her way across the entire room, keeping one hand securely on the folds of her towel. It as difficult getting all her clothes into a careful pile and even more so picking all of them up with one arm. Still, she managed it, all the while feeling Randy's eyes on her body.

Once she had her clothes, she turned to hurry back to the safety of the bathroom, but Randy's voice stopped her.

"Now, why don't you let that towel slip and change right in front of me," said Randy appreciatively.

"Oh yeah?"

He shrugged. "Or you could just stay naked."

"Glad I have your approval," Verya said dryly, though she wasn't quite able to make her tone completely sarcastic.

Randy smirked. "Come on, Ver. Just a tiny, accidental slip of the hand, that's all I ask."

Verya ignored him and started to the bathroom when he made a sudden movement, launching himself off the bed and landing squarely in her way.

"Randy, get out of my way," she ordered, her heart rate accelerating wildly.

His eyes glinted as he reached out, taking her clothes from her and tossing them to the side. Luckily, they landed in a neat pile. Then, both of his hands covered her hand on her towel.

Verya lashed out with her newly free hand, landing an open-handed strike on the side of his head. As he stumbled, slightly stunned, Verya broke away, kicking her clothes into the open bathroom and darting in after them.

Once she was safely in the bathroom, the door locked, Verya permitted herself a deep breath, slowing her wildly-beating heart. Breathing in and out deeply, Verya changed swiftly, ignoring the redness in her cheeks and the slight feeling between her legs.

When she was ready, she opened the door, ready to face Randy again, this time fully clothed in her sleeping attire. Her roommate was once more on his bed. He had put away his laptop and was watching her carefully.

Verya sighed and squared her shoulders, steeling herself. "Randy," she said, "could you do me a favor?"

"What?" he asked, his lips twitching.

_Stop all this,_ she wanted to say. Instead, she whispered, "Kiss me."

His expression couldn't have been more shocked than she herself was. He said slowly, "Did I hear that right?"

Verya, breathless, remained silent, staring at him.

Slowly, Randy got up off the bed and approached her. He slipped his muscled arms around her waist, pulling her close. Once their bodies were pressed together, he advanced, pushing her against the wall. He leaned into her, gently wedging her legs apart with one of his muscular legs, pressing it up into the opening he created.

Verya shifted her weight, growing hot. Her breaths were uneven and heavy.

Happy with the effect his actions produced, Randy leaned away long enough to bring his head down. He pressed his lips against hers, his tongue instantly lashing out with that undeniable urgency and need Verya couldn't resist. She opened up to him and his tongue pressed forward, fighting her own for dominance in her mouth.

As the kiss deepened, Randy leaned in further, pressing his leg further up against her core. Verya couldn't suppress the moan that she released from inside. It was mostly smothered by Randy's mouth but, judging by his renewed intensity, he heard it.

Randy slipped his hands easily into a new position. As Verya arched her back, one of his hands pressed her flat by her waist and another anchored her hip. In essence, he was restraining her and holding her still.

Verya moaning again, her own hands running along his muscled back. She pressed against him of her own accord, unconsciously bringing her legs closer together, straddling his leg more tightly. He started slowly and deliberately moving his leg forward and back, rubbing against her. Without thinking, she began to move with him.

Her cheeks were flushed and beads of perspiration were beginning to gather on her forehead. Her core felt hot against Randy's leg. Her eyes were closed as she leaned forward again, the kiss progressing.

Randy shifted suddenly, pulling her forward, gently breaking the kiss. He picked her up smoothly and deposited her on his bed, rolling on top of her and resuming their heated kiss. Their kiss was broken once more, however, when he pulled his shirt over his head and began to pull at Verya's.

In that instant, Verya suddenly came to her senses and let out a small shriek. "Randy!"

Confused, he froze. "Yeah?"

Anger suddenly washed over her. She pushed him off of her and rolled off the bed, worming her way under the covers of her own bed. She glared at him. "You just tried to have sex with me," she accused.

"Yeah," he said, obviously not seeing anything wrong with that. "You made it pretty clear that you wanted it."

"Remember this, Randy: unless I specifically tell you I want it, I _don't_ want it. Got it?"


	17. Chapter 17: The Switch part 2

RANDY POV

"Fine. Then I'll room with Randy here and, John, you go with Mickie next door."

I couldn't believe my ears. Verya was volunteering to stay with me, alone? It made me wonder what went through her head. Of course, I knew John would object.

Sure enough, John said, "No! No, no, no!"

Stupid over-protective boyfriend. Still, it all hinged on Verya.

She said snappily, "Anything's better than you two going at each other. Besides, I can defend myself if necessary, John."

Ouch. I'm sure he felt that, too.

He started, "You can't ―"

Verya interrupted him. "Oh, so you don't have faith in me?"

Ooooh. Damn. Glad I'm not John.

"No, Ver, I do, I just ―"

"John! Just trust me, ok?"

He was torn, obviously, between his "loyalty" to his girlfriend, as he needed to prove to her he trusted her, and his hatred for me. He looked at me. I looked down, silent. I couldn't blow this by myself, and, though I'm not really a gambling man, I felt pretty sure that, if I provided no provocation, he would let his girlfriend have her way.

Just as I thought, he reluctantly agreed. Verya left to get her stuff, followed closely by Mickie, to whom I was no stranger, and John sluggishly started packing up his stuff, all the while glaring at me. I was careful not to move, not to give him any reason to refuse again, to change his mind. I knew from experience that the slightest twitch could send him off the edge.

Verya soon came back with her stuff and began to usher her boyfriend out of the room. It took him another five minutes; he still was unconvinced when he left, but at least he did so.

Once it was just Verya and I, I relaxed, sitting down on my bed and reclining back, stretching out my legs. "So, I guess it's just you and me," I said.

She didn't take my attempt to start up conversation well. "Don't try to be nice; it doesn't suit you." I guessed she was still angry about the attack on John earlier tonight.

I told her I actually was a nice guy and decided also to let her know that I knew about her and Cody. She was most surprised, which I found both amusing and faintly insulting, since she obviously underestimated me. She took it more or less in stride, though, and used this new information to bitterly rebut me. Then, as she declared, she went to shower.

I opened up my laptop, logging into my email. There was a bunch of new stuff, mostly crap. A spam email about women's lingerie had made it in. Only then did I realize that Verya had forgotten her clothes on the chair.

I debated bringing them to her but decided against it. Maybe this way I'd get to see her naked. Well, it was possible. I got comfortable and pondered.

Most girls I would already be screwing in this situation. Hell, most of them would kill for the chance to be alone in the same room as me. Easy work. Verya, however, was an entirely different matter. Oh, I wanted her. I wanted her much more strongly than I've ever wanted a girl before, or at least in a long time. But it would have to be done carefully; I knew I couldn't rush it, especially with this feud going on. At the same time, I knew that this was _the_ chance. If I missed it, I didn't know how long I would have to wait until another came around.

I sighed and began cleaning out my inbox. There was nothing important in it. It gave me a chance to plan, think out my course of action. I waited for her to emerge from the bathroom.

Verya obviously didn't care too much for the conservation of hot water, because it was about an hour before she shut the shower off. After that, she soon cracked the door open, put her head out, and called my name.

I mildly pretended she had interrupted something needing my attention. "Yeah?" I asked neutrally.

"Could you get me the clean clothes I laid out on the chair, please? I forgot to bring them."

_Damn right you did,_ I thought gleefully. Aloud, I simply stated, "No."

"What?" she asked as if she didn't believe her ears.

"No," I repeated smugly. "Go get them yourself." I closed the laptop and looked at her expectantly.

She muttered a swear word and ducked back into the bathroom. Then, in a few seconds, she came out, the water still dripping from her body, a single white towel wrapped tightly around her torso.

I assessed her with a practiced eye. The towel came down to her mid-thighs. Her muscles were well-formed and her toned legs perfectly shaved. She swayed her hips subtly as she walked. I seriously doubt she was trying. Even through the towel, her curves were very well-defined; the more so as she gripped it tighter. The form of her breasts, too, was nicely seen, though the real thing would have been much better. Her bare shoulders were lightly muscled and very smooth. Her dark, straight hair, though wet, was still luscious and caught the light.

She was arranging her clothes, trying to pick them up with one arm. She, of course, had to bend over, dragging the edge of the towel up to just below where her ass started. Goddamn, but it started to turn me on. I looked at her hungrily, continuing to appraise her. And I knew I couldn't let this chance slip away.

She finally managed to pick up all her clothes and turned, ready to go back to the bathroom.

I said, appreciative of her sexiness, "Now, why don't you let that towel slip and change right in front of me."

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Or you could just stay naked." Yes, that would be preferable.

"Glad I have your approval." Her voice sounded a little funny, like she was trying to be sarcastic but wasn't managing it.

I smirked. She was happy that I thought her sexy. "Come on, Ver. Just a tiny, accidental slip of the hand, that's all I ask."

This time, she just flat out ignored me and started towards the bathroom. But I was determined. I leapt off the bed, transferring my computer to the bed, and stood in front of her.

"Randy, get out of my way," she said darkly.

I just reached out with both hands, taking her clothes from her and tossing them to the floor. Then, I covered the one hand that held the towel in place, intent on removing it. Suddenly, there was a sharp, hard blow on the side of my head. I hadn't even seen her move. I stumbled, slightly stunned. A second later, she was gone, locking me out of the bathroom.

I rubbed my head but the pain was already fading. I sighed and turned off my laptop, putting it away. I wasn't in the mood for anything. I knew I had let my chance slip away. Moreover, I was afraid there would be no more chances. I refused to slip into a sulk, though, and waited for her to come out.

She did so soon enough, this time clothed, but she didn't go all the way to her own bed. Instead, she stopped in front of mine. "Randy," she said, "could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

She hesitated. "Kiss me."

I could hardly believe my ears. She said it softly but clearly, and I had never had hearing problems before. Still, I asked slowly, "Did I hear that right?"

She seemed unable to reply, simply staring at me.

I couldn't refuse. Slowly, I got up and approached her, unsure of myself for once. I slipped my arms around her slender waist, pressing her close. Then, I advanced, pressing her against the wall. I used a new trick to get her to relax, using one of my legs to separate hers, wedging it firmly in between. My legs were longer, so it was easy pressing up against her. She liked it; I could feel it.

But she had wanted a kiss, so I leaned away briefly and pressed my lips firmly to hers. Suddenly, I needed it, probably more than she did. I lashed out with my tongue, almost not waiting for her to let me into her mouth. It was très Français.

After that, it was all natural and impulsive. As our kiss deepened, I pressed my leg further against her core, enjoying the warmth of her excitement. She moaned gently into my mouth and arched her back. I was glad she was enjoying it as much as I was, but I couldn't let her move. I needed her still in order to work my magic. I slipped my arms out from behind her back and used on hand at her waist to press her flat against the wall and one hand to anchor her hip.

In reply, she moaned again. Her hands were running along my back. She brought her legs closer together, straddling my thigh that much more tightly.

It was time to crank it up a notch of intensity. I began to move my leg back and forth, slowly but steadily rubbing against her core with a firm rhythm. She soon started moving with me to my rhythm.

Damn it, but I couldn't take it anymore. I broke our kiss, picking her up smoothly. This, after all, was what muscles were really for. I deposited her gently on my bed and rolled on top of her, resuming our heated kiss. Our bodies were fully touching. I was lying on top of her but partly supporting myself. I decided that since I couldn't take it anymore, I might as well make it clear. I broke our kiss, quickly stripping off my shirt. I began to tug at the bottom of hers, too. Dammit, I needed her clothes off.

Suddenly, she let out a small shriek and cried out my name.

I was confused and froze. She shouldn't be screaming my name just yet. It was a little premature for that. "Yeah?" I asked her. In other words, _What the hell is wrong? Let's fix it so we can do this!_

She pushed me. The action was so unexpected that I put up absolutely no resistance, rolling off of her. I watched her blankly as she rolled off of my bed and went to hers, getting under the covers and then turning to glare at me.

"You just tried to have sex with me." It sounded like an accusation.

"Yeah." What was wrong with what I did? "You made it pretty clear that you wanted it."

"Remember this, Randy: unless I specifically tell you I want it, I _don't_ want it. Got it?" She rolled over pointedly and was still.

I could have smacked myself. Of course, I forgot myself. This was _Verya_, not some easy lay I picked up at the bar…or, for that matter, from the Divas' locker room. I forgot what it really was to be a hunter. "Yep," I confirmed for her benefit. "Got it."

` She turned, glancing at me in a matter that almost made me wonder whether I had spontaneously turned green and sprouted three more arms. After a few seconds, she said, "Well, good. I'm going to sleep."

"Good night," I said, smiling at her.

She stared at me for a few more seconds. "Good night," she put forth finally. She turned around again.

I lay flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling. It was so strange. I _knew_ I hadn't misinterpreted the signs. She hadn't fought back, that was for absolutely certain. Hell, she had _asked_ me to kiss her. She had been turned on. She didn't resist when I put her on the bed and climbed on top of her. It was only when I tried to take off her shirt.

_What's up with that?_ I wondered. After all, she had already appeared before me in nothing but a towel. _I suppose she remembered John_, I thought bitterly. I felt certain that she had forgotten completely about him until she stopped me.

_Damn John,_ I cogitated. If only she wasn't going out with him. I was absolutely positive that if she wasn't in a relationship already, she'd have let me go as far as I wanted. _If only I could break them up!_ Slowly, an idea began to form in my head. Not only would I break up them up, I would end John Felix Anthony Cena's carrier in the WWE. I just had to make his crime look real enough for the management and I had to nudge Creative in the right direction. Thankfully, I knew just the person to help me. I had no doubt he would risk it; he owed me a favor.

I felt the smile creep onto my face. I couldn't stop myself from grinning. I was sure I looked like an idiot, but I didn't care. It was a great plan, one of my greatest. And I was going to make sure it would work.


	18. Chapter 18: Cody's Warning

It was two weeks after that night Verya had almost slipped. She hadn't told John about it, and she sincerely hoped Randy wouldn't, either. If he did, she would deny it. She knew John would believe her over Randy.

As for her and John, their relationship was progressing nicely. Their kissing had moved onto French, though (Verya couldn't help but compare) it still wasn't the same. Nevertheless, Verya couldn't deny that she was happy with John. And, it seemed, John was happy with her. Their relationship was especially better now that it wasn't suffering from Randy's daily torments.

It was strange, almost. Since that night, Randy had stopped harassing her and John. Or, well, mostly. There were no more steel chair ambushes; at least, not outside the ring. Inside the ring, of course, their feud still raged. The hatred fueling it hadn't gone anywhere, though it had grown just a little stale. He still made remarks, he still touched, but he no longer hurt and wounded every other day.

Verya was simply happy. She could tell John was a bit suspicious, but not enough to confront Randy about it and risk provoking him.

Then, one day after a show, Cody confronted Verya.

"Verya, can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked quietly, trying to draw her away from John, Triple H, Rey Mysterio, Maryse, Shawn Michaels, and Mickie.

"One sec," she whispered to him. Then, she turned to her two trusted friends, Maryse and Mickie. They were the only two Divas completely up to date on the Randy-and-John business. "Girls, can you distract the guys so I can talk to Cody?"

They smiled knowingly and nodded. Mickie quickly sprinted to get two packs of beer. Maryse called the guys over, making the existence of the beer known.

Verya slipped away, following Cody into a different hallway. Finally, he stopped, facing her.

"What's up, Cody?" she asked.

He smiled briefly. "Long time, no talk, huh?" It had been a week since last they communicated.

"Indeed."

"Listen, Verya, I'm not supposed to be talking to you," he said quietly. "Usually I go to Randy first, but I didn't this time. I'm worried."

Verya hesitated. Still, the anxious look in his blue-green eyes was undeniable. "Why?"

Cody bit his lip. "He's planning something," he spat out quickly. The words were rushed, as if he didn't want to say them but felt he had to.

"Planning something? Planning what?" Verya asked, feeling a bit panicked.

"I don't know. If I knew, I would tell you." Cody looked around nervously. "He's awfully unpredictable these days. Well, I mean, he's always unpredictable, but now particularly. And sometimes when I or Ted say something about you or John, he gets this _weird_ smile and tells us not to worry."

"A weird smile?"

"Yeah, like he knows a big secret that nobody else does." Cody looked even more panicked and anxious than Verya felt. "I just don't know what's up with him. He usually tells me everything, but I've asked and he just tells me not to worry."

Verya forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly. As an afterthought, she advised Cody to do the same. He followed her advise, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm down.

"Listen, I better get back," Cody said after a minute. "He'll be wondering where I went, I told him I was going to the bathroom."

Verya thanked him and sent him on his way. He disappeared quickly and she went back to the group she left.

"Where were you?" John asked her as soon as she came around the corner.

"Bathroom," she assured him.

Hunter also looked up. "Verya, what's wrong?" he asked, getting up, his half-empty beer in hand.

John followed suit, walking over and putting at an around her waist.

"Nothing. Why do you think something's wrong?"

"You look upset, Ver," Hunter said. "Don't try to deceive us; it won't work."

"I'm not upset, I just didn't get enough sleep last night," Verya protested weakly.

Hunter looked at John, winking. "Have you been getting yours lately?" he wanted to know.

John laughed. "No, not yet." He focused again on Verya. "Seriously, Ver. We know _something's_ wrong. What is it?"

Verya drew them both away a bit. Then, she relayed to them what Cody Rhodes had told her.

"Cody told you this?" John asked when she was finished, surprise layering his voice.

Hunter pressed his lips together and sighed. "Verya, knowing Cody Rhodes, he was probably doing it for Randy. He wants you to be paranoid."

"You didn't see him, Hunter. He was genuinely scared," Verya protested.

"Yeah, well, we're all scared of Randy," Hunter muttered.

John's expression instantly changed and he lifted his chin defiantly. "Speak for yourself," he said.

Hunter just rolled his eyes. "Well, you have my opinion." He sighed again. "I once made the mistake of underestimating Randy Orton. I swore to myself I would never make that mistake again. I advise you both to make that endeavor with me."

Verya nodded. "That sounds like pretty good advice," she said.

John remained silent.

"Verya! Come have a beer," called Maryse.

Verya smiled and went over to her side, taking a beer and popping it open. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Certainement," the blonde Diva whispered back. "How'd it go?"

"He, um, wanted to talk to me about Randy," Verya muttered. "He's worried he's planning something."

Maryse frowned. "Like what?"

"I don't know, and he wouldn't give any hints. I don't think he knows, either."

"It's just a general feeling he has? Could it be a warning?" Maryse met Verya's glare. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying he's necessarily working for Randy, I'm just saying it's a possibility."

Verya sighed and nodded. "I suppose."

"What did John and Hunter jump on you for?"

"Well, they wanted to know where I'd been."

"Did you tell them?"

"Yes! You know what John's like by himself, and with Hunter, they're unstoppable."

Maryse shook her head. "They treat you like you're a criminal on parole," she said softly. "It's wrong."

Verya dropped her gaze to the ground. "Well, I _feel_ guilty," she said quietly.

Maryse sighed and took Verya's arm firmly, walking her away from everyone else. "If you're referring to that incident where you and Randy, um, kissed ―"

"And nearly had sex."

"Yes!" Maryse glared. "If you're referring to that, don't worry about it. It's natural attraction, that's all. You and Randy have undeniable chemistry. _Don't_," she continued, overriding Verya's protests, "try to deny it, I just told you it was undeniable."

"It's not chemistry!"

"Then what do you call it when a man and a woman are attracted to each other so much that, even though they hate each other to death, they can't help but make out in one of those rare moments that they're alone?" Maryse demanded. "I suppose you call it an accident."

"Well, yes," Verya said. "In any case, chemistry is the science of matter."

"And what are you and Randy? Immaterial?"

Verya rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "You know what I mean."

Maryse raised her eyebrows. "I have no idea what you mean. But you know _exactly_ what _I_ mean."

"Yes, I know." Verya sighed. "That doesn't mean I agree with it."

"You don't have to agree with fact. It just _is_."

"Ha! Fact, my ass."

"I'm sure Randy agrees."

"Maryse!" Verya looked around nervously. "Don't _say_ things like that."

She smiled, twirling a few strands of her long, straight, blonde hair. "It's true, though. I only say the truth."

"No, you say your opinion."

"Truth."

"Let's not argue pointlessly."

"I beg to differ; this conversation has a very particular point," Maryse asserted. "When are you going to admit to yourself that you would be happier with Randy?"

Verya drew her further away, noticing that John was looking at them curiously. To Maryse, she said quietly, "Please, Maryse, if we _must_ talk about this, could we please do so in different company?"

Maryse huffed and stalked off, grabbing an official and speaking expressively at length. Finally, he nodded and she returned to Verya.

"Well?" Verya asked. "What was that about?"

"You and I are rooming together."

Verya smiled. "Fine by me."


	19. Chapter 19: Disaster

True to her promise, Maryse had made sure that she and Verya were roomed together. Neither of them had appearances in the next RAW show, so they simply sat around in their rooms, both working and hanging out.

"So," Maryse finally said after the formalities were out of the way, "let's get to business."

Verya leaned back against the pillows on her bed, crossing her legs. "Shoot."

Maryse rubbed her hands together. "Like I said before, when are you going to admit that you would be happier with Randy?"

Verya pressed her lips together. "If you want me to say that, I can."

"I mean to yourself! Admit it to yourself, not to me!"

"I don't think so."

Maryse gave her a look. "Yes, you do, and deep inside, you _know_ it."

Verya opened her mouth to retort something but she couldn't think of anything. The thing was, though she had tried to avoid thinking about it, she knew Maryse was right.

Maryse nodded. "Exactly."

"But I'm happy with John, too. And he's, you know, _safer_ than Randy."

Maryse only sighed dramatically, waving away Verya's excuses. "_Cherie_, I only want what's best for you." She sent her a steely glare. "Something you seem to be completely indifferent towards."

"I'm not indifferent towards my happiness, I just ―"

"Wait, wait. I bet you're feeling some kind of loyalty towards John because he's your current boyfriend, right? Verya, you have to look out for yourself. If you try to look out for John, too, you'll completely lose all sense of direction."

_Wise words_, Verya thought dryly. "But I have to!"

"I know you feel that way. That's what I'm trying to tell you. _Stop_ feeling that way."

"Might as well tell me to throw away all sense of morality," Verya grumbled.

Maryse shrugged. "If that's what it takes for your happiness to crawl out of its time-out corner, sure."

Verya's cell phone rang, the ringtone the chorus of "Just To Get High," by Nickelback. She picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey Verya, it's Hunter." His tone was grave.

"Hunter! What's the matter?"

"I think you should see for yourself. It's John."

"_Shit_. Where?"

"It's his room, number 147. Come as quickly as you can."

"I'll be right there." Verya nearly dropped the phone in her haste. "Maryse!"

"What, what is it?" she asked, sitting up.

"It's John, Hunter says room 147, I have to go!"

Maryse leapt off her bed, grabbing her purse with one hand and Verya's arm with the other. "Then let's go! Did he tell you what it was?"

"No, he just said come as soon as possible."

The two Divas hurried through the halls of the hotel to room 147. There was quite a crowd outside, both of WWE superstars and police officials.

"Excuse me, let me through, please!" Verya said, trying to make her way through the crowd.

"Who are you?" a policeman asked flatly, blocking her way.

"I'm his girlfriend," Verya said instantly, "I'm John Cena's girlfriend. My name's Verya."

He nodded and let her through. Maryse, keeping her death grip on Verya's arm, went in with her.

Verya stopped just inside the room. Hunter was arguing with a policeman by the window. John was handcuffed, a policeman on either side of him, sitting on a bed, his head hung. He kept muttering something.

Verya hurried to him. "John!"

The policemen rose as she approached.

John looked up sharply. "I didn't do it!" Then, he recognized her. "Verya! You have to trust me, it wasn't me, I didn't know!"

"What is this?" she demanded of the policemen.

"You his girlfriend?" one of them asked.

"Yes, I'm Verya. What has he done?"

"I haven't done anything!" John protested.

"Right, sorry. What are the charges?"

"Possession of illegal drugs," said one, looking at her carefully. "Cocaine."

"_What_?" Verya gasped. "You're shitting me."

The policemen exchanged glances. "No, miss. Unfortunately, we are _not_ kidding you."

"I said shitting."

"We're not supposed to swear," they told her.

Maryse gripped her hand tightly. "Impossible," she muttered with a French accent.

"Is that the same word in French?" Verya asked. _Anything to get my mind off this or I'll explode_.

"Mais oui." Maryse shook her head. "But how?"

"I didn't know!" John begged. "Please, Verya, believe me."

"I don't know what to think," Verya admitted. She sat down opposite John.

"Verya!" Hunter called, making his way over to her. "Uh, Maryse." He gave the blonde a weird look, which the French Diva returned.

"Hey, Hunter," Verya said hollowly.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to break it to you over the phone," he said gently. He turned to John. "Don't worry, we're trying to figure this out. Is there anyone you would suspect of slipping it into your bags?"

John muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Randy Orton.'

"What?" Hunter asked. "I didn't hear that, John."

"Orton," he said more clearly.

"Come off it, John, we've got _nothing_ on him," Hunter said, though he sounded doubtful. "Hell, he hasn't even been bothering you lately, has he?"

"No," John admitted sullenly. "Not since about two weeks ago."

Maryse's grip on Verya's hand tightened.

"Ow," Verya hissed.

"Sorry!" Maryse whispered and relaxed slightly.

"How long does it take to get some cocaine if you don't have any?" Hunter asked the policeman that had followed him over from beside the window.

"A day or two if you know the right people," the policeman said. "There are plenty of dealers everywhere. If you know one of them, you can bet your ass he has a bunch. Crack's one of the most common illegal drugs out there."

"I thought policemen weren't supposed to swear," John reminded him.

Verya smiled slightly at him. Now, that was more like the John she knew.

"Ass isn't a swear word," the man asserted calmly. "And criminals aren't supposed to tell authorities what to do, either."

"I'm not a criminal. You'll see," John said. "Since I'm innocent, there's _bound_ to be evidence. You'll find it if you can do your job right."

"Possession of illegal drugs is a serious charge, Mr. Cena," the policeman said. "The drugs were found _in your bags_."

"That doesn't mean anything," Hunter said angrily. "Why can't you people do your jobs? Haven't you heard the phrase 'innocent until proven guilty' anywhere?"

The atmosphere was suddenly full of flashing lights and rapid talking.

"Great," Hunter said, sighing. "The press is here." He went over to go shoo them off.

"There must be something to point them in the right direction," Maryse said. "Fingerprints, traces, anything!"

The policeman who had been talking to Hunter before and who had had the most recent exchange of conversation between them opened a notepad, sighing. "Ok, Cena. I'm Investigator Johnson. Whom did you accuse before?"

John looked up. "Randy Orton. Randy _Keith_ Orton."

The investigator began taking notes. "Is he a wrestler?"

"Yeah. We're having a feud with him on-camera."

"Just you and him?"

"Well, me, him, Verya here, Legacy – that's Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase – and, um, yeah. A few other people have made minor appearances."

Investigator Johnson looked at Verya. "Are you Verya?"

"Yes. I'm also John's girlfriend."

"Mmhmm." He kept scribbling. "Cena, what's your full name?"

"John Felix Anthony Cena."

"Have you and Orton had personal problems outside the script before?"

John scowled. "Yes. Many of them."

"Talk."

John told him briefly about how he and Randy had never liked each other and when Verya came to the WWE, it just became a whole lot worse. He listed a few specific examples of Randy's attacks and his repeated chasing after Verya even after she was officially John's girlfriend.

The investigator finished writing and looked up. "We'll talk to him. One more thing. Who's been your roommate recently?"

"Jeff Hardy was last time and, actually, the time before that, too. Today it was Hunter over there." John nodded towards the wildly gesturing Triple H, wearing his trademark black _Metu Neminem_ T-shirt. The 6' 4" wrestler was quite a scary sight.

"Uh huh," said Johnson, following his gaze and scribbling briefly. He closed the pad with finality. "Thank you, Mr. Cena. We'll be sure to take everything you've said into account when we begin our investigation."

"But you'll begin it today, won't you?" Maryse demanded. "You must! He's innocent, you have to prove that!"

Investigator Johnson looked at her curiously. "And who are you?"

Maryse didn't look quite so sure anymore. "Maryse. I'm her best friend," she added, clutching Verya's hand tightly.

"Ok. Sure." Investigator Johnson nodded to Verya and John and walked away.

"Wait!" John called after him.

The investigator paused and turned.

"Why did you search my bags in the first place?" John asked furiously. "Why was I suspect?"

"We received an anonymous tip-off," Johnson said. "Good day, Mr. Cena." He turned and made his way through the crowd outside, ignoring questions.

John sighed. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"They'll get to the bottom of it," Verya told him, but her words fell flat. Her mind was blank. She was still in shock and didn't know what to think.

They had to take John away, of course. Maryse dragged Verya back to their room, away from all the questions and people wanting to tell her things. Verya blindly stumbled through the hallways.

"Sit down," Maryse commanded when they were finally safe in their room. "You need to get something into your stomach. Here." She tossed Verya a snack.

Without looking at what it was, Verya began to eat. Maryse hurried around the room, boiling water and making tea.

"Is there anyone else you want to talk to? I could call them," Maryse offered.

Verya thought for a minute. Though she didn't really want to talk to anyone, she wouldn't mind Hunter. She said so and Maryse opened her phone, dialing his number as if her life depended on it.

Hunter came in a few minutes, shutting the door firmly behind him. "Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked, coming up to Verya.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I think I'm kind of in shock."

"Well, it's not everyday your boyfriend is arrested for possession," Hunter agreed. "I would be shocked, too. But, Verya, you mustn't think John is guilty. If nothing else, believe his innocence. You know him, he wouldn't do that."

"His morality wouldn't let him even if he wanted to," Maryse agreed.

Hunter nodded, kneeling next to Verya. "John's sense of morality is something we all aspire to," he murmured. "He's innocent, Verya. I'm sure the investigator will find so, too, and soon. It can't be that hard."

Verya desperately wanted to believe him.


	20. Chapter 20: Sorry

The investigator was hanging around the arena next show. This time, Verya had an appearance. The story was, John and Randy would have a 30-minute Iron Man match with Triple H as the special referee. If John lost, he would leave WWE forever, thus enabling him to get a clean break. If Randy lost, he would have to face John and Hunter in a handicap match, no holds barred, no disqualification. John was supposed to lose. Randy was going to be talking about that match, saying John had no chance. Verya had to come out and assert to the contrary and they would have a mini-fight, an unofficial brawl of a match. Kofi would go out and interfere, saving her.

Verya was going off with Kofi, her head ringing from the painful connection it had taken with the turnbuckle a minute ago, when she saw Investigator Johnson. He beckoned to her.

"I'll see ya later, Kofi," she said.

He nodded and waved, continuing on.

Verya approached the investigator. "What?"

"I wonder if you're available for an interview."

"What have you done so far? What do you have?"

He shrugged. "His roommate, Hardy, has gotten off with two warnings. One, prescription pills, two, steroids. Nothing too serious, but still. No connection to Orton, though, whom Cena accused."

"Randy may not be guilty," Verya admitted. "But what, you think Jeff is?"

Johnson shrugged again. "There are signs, but we're not sure of anything yet. So far, the evidence still points to your boyfriend."

Verya gave him a look. "Anyway. You said you wanted an interview?"

"Yeah. Just general information about Mr. Cena."

He began asking his questions, and Verya tried her best to answer them as well as possible. He asked about John's character, about his fighting style, about his relationships with other people. He inquired about his past, his personal life, everything.

"One more thing," he said, writing in his notepad. "Let's get back to Randy Orton. You were in his feud with Cena, right?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind telling me what your relationship with him is?" Johnson looked at her expectantly.

Verya bit her lip. "Nothing. I mean, it's just professional, right?"

He watched her carefully. "So you don't communicate off-camera?"

"Well, I mean, of course we do, it's hard to never talk to someone in the WWE. Yeah, we were sort of friends in the beginning, and then not when he started attacking John."

The investigator was writing. "Just friends?" he repeated.

"Yes." Verya said it a bit more forcefully than she meant to, but he didn't seem to notice.

There were a few more questions about Jeff Hardy and then he was through. Verya returned to her room, which she again shared with Maryse.

"I got interviewed," Verya said, tossing her bags to the floor.

"What did they ask?"

"They asked about John's personality and about Randy."

"What did you say?"

Verya sighed. "Well, I didn't tell them the truth about Randy's relationship with me. I couldn't. I mean, what if John found out?"

Maryse sighed, too. "Oh, Verya. I knew you would say that."

"But what could I do?"

"That's the thing. I would have done the same in your place." Maryse smiled gently. "At least there's still the match to come."

Verya grimaced. "He's supposed to lose."

Maryse nodded solemnly. "He'll probably do it. I mean, what else could he do?"

"I don't know," Verya admitted. "I have no idea."

"Have you and John even talked since the arrest?"

"No." Verya got up. "Listen, Maryse, I'm going to go walk around or something. I need to move or I'll go insane."

"Don't wander off," Maryse said.

Verya went out, walking aimlessly through the halls of the hotel. She went past the lobby. She had no desire to talk to loitering superstars. However, as she was walking past a room, not looking where she was going, she accidentally walked straight into someone's muscular chest.

"Whoa! Verya, sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," a familiar deep voice said.

"Hey, Randy. It's fine, I wasn't looking, either," Verya said. She began to sidestep him but he stopped her.

"Hey. You ok?"

Verya nodded. "Fine," she said uncertainly. "I'm fine."

"Well, you don't look fine." He embraced her warmly. "I'm sorry about John."

Verya shrugged. "I believe he's innocent," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

"May I walk with you?"

Verya nodded grudgingly. They began to walk side by side silently.

Then, Randy asked, "Did he accuse me?"

"Yes," Verya admitted. "He hates you."

"I know, and I know I've done a lot of stupid shit to you and John, and I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

Verya looked at him in surprise. "What?"

Randy sighed deeply and stopped her, facing her. "I'm sorry, Verya. I'm sorry for all that I've done. I can't help hating John, but I was wrong in letting my dislike for him provoke me into action."

Verya was astounded. Randy Orton was actually apologizing.

He looked at her anxiously. "I really am very, very sorry. If I could take it back, I would. That's why I stopped completely these last two weeks."

"I noticed, and I wondered."

He smiled wryly. "I have a heart, Verya. Sometimes it takes a while to wake up out of its coma, that's all."

"Why is it in a coma in the first place?"

"It's for the character that I play. The Viper is a heartless, driven, ruthless fighter." He smiled hopefully. "Do you forgive me?"

Verya laughed for the first time in a while. "Yes, Randy. I forgive you." She embraced him tightly.

He flashed a relieved smile at her. "Damn, but I am glad to hear that. I missed your friendship, back in the good old days."

"It seems so long ago," Verya said softly. "I miss it, too. Life was so much less complicated."

They resumed walking slowly.

"They'll find evidence to clear him, don't worry," Randy said.

"Everyone says so, but I don't know." Verya shook her head, sighing hopelessly. "I just don't know what to think. I'm sure he's innocent, but ―" she trailed off.

"I know, these situations make you wonder." Randy nodded understandingly.

"So, the match next week? Is John really going to lose?"

"Well, I mean, he's supposed to. I don't know, leaving WWE forever seems like a harsh sentence. Besides, they haven't even determined whether or not he's guilty."

"Let's change the subject," Verya said uncomfortably.

They talked a while longer, small talk about everything ranging from music interests to favorite foods to workout regimes to politics to medicine. Eventually, they came back to Verya's room, having finished off a long discussion about the importance of Vitamin D in the diet.

"Well, this is my room," Verya said, stopping in front of it.

Randy smiled good-naturedly and said, "Well, then, I'll see you around later. And remember, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, this one's more than up for the job." He flexed, winking.

Verya laughed. "Thanks, Randy." With a wave, she unlocked the door and went inside.

"Hey," Maryse called. "Feel better?"

"Yep," Verya said, smiling. "I talked to Randy."

Maryse sat up, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, really? How did that go?"

"Great. We just talked, that's all. Oh, and he apologized."

"Apologized? What for?"

"For everything he did to me and John, of course. He was most eager to impress upon me just how sorry he was." Verya sighed happily. "We talked about all sorts of things, just casual talking."

Maryse nearly growled, holding fistfuls of the blanket in front of her. "My point!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, Maryse, don't start this again," Verya said. "Not when I'm in such a good mood." She twirled and fell onto the bed, stretching.

"Well, we have yet to see how all this plays out, anyway," Maryse grumbled. "But I stand by what I've said before. You would be happier with Randy."


	21. Chapter 21: Iron Man

Miraculously, when next week came around, Verya was _still_ roomed with Maryse. She even confronted the French Diva about it but she claimed she had nothing to do with it.

"Let's watch the show live in our room," Maryse said, flopping onto a bed and turning on the TV, looking through the channels.

Verya rolled her eyes. "No, Maryse, that's out of the question," she said sarcastically, "wrestling's too boring. Especially when your boyfriend's in a match with extreme stipulations." In truth, Verya was torn between wanting to see every nanosecond of the match and not wanting to see it at all. On one hand, she was interested and worried. On the other, she didn't think she could stand to see the score at the end.

Soon, they found the right channel and watched avidly. As the match progressed, Verya could hardly believe what she was seeing. King and JR only made it so much worse. Each time, she cursed the commercial breaks explicitly.

The match started out normally enough. Rush, chokehold, powering out of it, punching, hurling into corners, it was all normal and routine. Hunter barely moved around, looking incredibly calm.

But it was a falls-count-anywhere Iron Man match and John quickly decided to use this. He, Randy, and Triple H quickly got out of the ring and John and Randy did their often-used Flying Dutchman trick. This time, though, it was John who hurled Randy into the steel steps. And, by the sound of it, he did so extremely hard.

Randy hit them shoulder first, but in the replay it was clear that he had also hit his head. With this stunt, John got the first point. There were fifteen seconds for recovery, but John looked restless, dying to go at Randy again.

Randy managed to pick himself up by the end of the fifteen seconds, but he looked dazed and confused. John went for the Attitude Adjustment and successfully executed it on the hard floor at ringside. The score was 2-0 in John's favor.

It didn't stop there. John went around the ring, looking for something. He finally found it: a steel chair. Randy had stood up, though, and when John went to hit him with his new weapon, Randy dodged and got a takedown, grabbing the chair as it slipped from John's hands and hitting him squarely in the back with it a few times.

It was now Randy's turn for retribution. He picked up a steel step and, as John got up and turned towards him, rammed it into John's skull, producing a sickening thud. Hunter tried to count slowly, but he had no choice. John wasn't moving. The score turned to 2-1, still in John's favor.

Randy went easy on John once he got up, but it turned out to be a mistake. John got a takedown and went for the STF. Randy tapped but John didn't let go until Hunter told him to, which wasn't until Hunter noticed John hadn't let go, which wasn't until about ten seconds after Randy tapped. Ten of the recovery seconds. The score was 3-1 with five seconds remaining of recovery time.

John didn't let Randy get up after that. He sent Randy's skull into the steel steps, into the side of the ring, into the barrier keeping the fans at bay, into the floor itself, into everything he could get his hands on. Randy's face, as well as John's hands, was covered in blood by the time John executed another Attitude Adjustment to get the three-count once more. 4-1.

"Well, I don't think this match is going quite the way Randy Orton expected it would," commented JR.

"No, JR, the threat of expulsion from the WWE has awakened something in John Cena nobody has ever seen before," agreed King.

"No damn kidding," Verya muttered, staring at the screen, unable to tear her gaze away. "What's wrong with him?"

"He wants to win," Maryse said softly.

"Can't he do that without killing Randy? Look at him! His head is busted open!" Verya exclaimed. "John was never this type of person."

It only got worse as the match went on. John kept targeting the skull of his opponent, hitting it with everything, hitting everything with it. By the time the 30 minutes ran out, the score was 5-1. John Cena had won, despite the storyline. And he had done so using despicable methods.

Verya turned off the TV. She couldn't bear to see or hear anything related to the match again. "Oh, Maryse," she said. "What am I supposed to say to him?"


	22. Chapter 22: Break

After a minute, she decided to go down to the arena and confront him herself. She explained to the security that she was an employee of WWE and had a right to be back there. Finally, they let her in and Verya marched straight over there but saw something that made her stop in her tracks.

Maria was in the process of hugging a grinning John. She leaned back but didn't let go. Instead, she leaned forward again and kissed him full on the lips. When they broke apart, he was still smiling. He laughed and said something to her.

Verya had always been one for action and hanging around Randy had made her impulsive. She began stalking straight over there to slap both of them but was grabbed around the waist and dragged around the corner.

"Don't," whispered Cody in her ear.

Verya's energy was suddenly drained. She relaxed in his arms, burying her face in his shirt. "How could he, Cody? How could he?" she whispered.

"Shh," he said softly. "It's ok, Ver. He's not worth it anyway. Not after what he's done to you."

"He cheated on me, Cody. He kissed Maria." Verya shook her head. "No, wait. Maria kissed him. But why did he let her? Why?"

Cody only rubbed her back comfortingly. "You can't let him do this to you, Verya," he told her. "You can't let him play you like a pawn in chess."

Verya felt tears spring into her eyes but she blinked them away. She looked up, releasing Cody. "How can I trust him after this? How can I still treat him as the same person after that horrible match? After that kiss?"

Cody grimaced sympathetically. "You can't," he said quietly. "You can't."

Verya sighed deeply, smoothing her hair and drying her cheeks. "Where's Randy?"

Cody's expression cleared. "He's being checked out. Follow me."

He led her into a room where Randy was lying on a stretcher, doctors and nurses surrounding him. "It's ok," he told them, "we're his friends."

Reluctantly, they let them stay.

Verya suppressed a gasp as she got her first real look at his head. There was a nasty gash at the top, nearer to the front. It extended about three inches long and nearly an inch wide and looked fairly deep. It was still bleeding freely, covering his head, face, and shoulders in blood.

She witnessed the procedure as the doctors swabbed the area with disinfect and began to stitch him up. She and Cody watched silently, being careful to stay out of the way and not distract them.

Finally, Verya turned away and Cody willingly led her out. Together, they walked slowly through the arena, making their way to the hotel.

"Will he be ok?" Verya asked anxiously.

"Of course. Don't worry, they're health professionals and they've had a lot of practice," Cody assured her. "Besides, Randy heals quickly. He'll pull out."

"That was horrible," Verya said. Even she didn't know if she meant the match or watching one stitch after the other, an excruciatingly slow process that the doctors performed with the air of cold and efficient machine-like indifference.

"Yes," Cody agreed softly. "Yes, it was."

They went into the hotel together and Cody walked her to her room.

After a few minutes of heavy silence, Verya whispered, "How could he do that?"

Cody sighed. "You can't let him, Verya. Show him you're an independent woman. You don't need John. He lied, he cheated, and he behaved like a psychotic monster in the ring." He knocked sharply on the door. "Go to sleep, Ver. It's been a long day. Get some rest."

Maryse opened the door and Cody pushed her gently into the room.

"Good night, Verya," he said quietly.

"Good night, Cody," she replied and closed the door.

Maryse looked at her carefully. "Ok, so, what happened?"

Verya looked at her hopelessly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," she muttered.

"What? What happened? What did he say?"

"He didn't have to say anything, Maryse," Verya said bitterly. She told her what she had seen. "He's lucky Cody was around to stop me from ripping his head off."

Maryse opened her mouth in shock and stepped back. "Are – are you sure?"

"Assuming nobody slipped LSD to me, yes, I'm sure. I saw it." The anger was beginning to heat her nerve endings. She felt on fire and, more importantly, for once, she felt hatred towards John.

"But he's your ―"

"My _boyfriend_, yes." The word tasted weird and foreign on her tongue. Acrid. It was the base of all her troubles, her relationship with John. Bitter.

"I can't believe it," Maryse muttered. "It's so unlike him."

"Having crack cocaine in his bags is unlike him, too," Verya said sharply. "And so is beating an opponent until he can no longer stand on his feet, has to be carried out on a stretcher, is covered with blood, and needs a hell of a lot of stitches in his head." Her phone rang. "Hello?"

"Verya, it's Hunter."

"Hey, Hunter."

"John is cleared of all charges. They've arrested Jeff."

"They arrested Jeff Hardy?" Verya exclaimed.

"Yes. Apparently they found his fingerprints, a whole bunch of them, on the bags of cocaine." Hunter sighed. "I'm not very surprised. Jeff has had incidents in the past; he must have put the crack in the wrong bags by mistake."

Verya didn't know whether to feel happy or angry. "Oh."

"Yeah. Just thought you ought to know that. Anyway, sorry about the match. I honestly didn't know he would explode like that."

"Oh, that. Yeah." Verya scowled.

"Anyway, I gotta go."

"Bye, Hunter."

"Bye, Ver." He hung up.

Verya closed the cell phone, gritting her teeth.

"Jeff, huh?" Maryse said. She flipped her hair. "Well, I'm not too surprised."

Verya sighed deeply. "I can't take this. How should I break up with him?"

Maryse looked at her speculatively. "Well, considering you're pissed enough to rip his head off, I would say a phone call would do the trick."

Verya followed her advice, dialing John's number and holding the phone to her ear. Her hands shook.

John picked up after the third ring. "Hello?"

"It's Verya," she said flatly.

"Hey, Ver! Did you see the match? I won, I'm staying at WWE!"

"That's just great," Verya said in the same tone.

John was too hyped up to notice. "And guess what else? I'm cleared! They arrested Jeff, they had his fingerprints or something, but I ―"

"John! Shut up!"

There was a pause. "Something wrong, baby?" he asked quietly.

Verya exploded. "DON'T YOU 'BABY' ME, CENA! I _saw_ your ridiculous match, where you nearly annihilated Randy. 5-1, was it? I _saw_ you kissing Maria after it. I saw them stitch up Randy's busted head."

"Oh, kissing Maria? Don't worry, she only a friend, I swear. Besides, _she_ kissed _me_. She was just happy I won, that's all, I swear ―"

"No, John. I don't need you to swear anything. We're over."

He was quiet. "You're breaking up with me?" he asked, as if he didn't quite believe it.

"Yeah, I am. See you around, Cena." She closed the phone with finality and looked over at Maryse.

Maryse looked at her and smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Ver," she said. "But you did the right thing."

"Thanks, Maryse," Verya said. Her phone rang. Opening it, she looked at the Caller ID. "It's John." She sighed deeply and smiled. Then, she turned the phone off and tossed it in her bag. "He can go to hell for all I care."


	23. Chapter 23: Break 2

BREAK 2

JOHN CENA POV

I stumbled backstage, grinning like an idiot. I couldn't believe it. I had defied the fat cats of our management. I was cleared of all charges. I was surrounded by my friends, all of them shouting congratulations, slapping me on the back. I couldn't have been happier.

Maria, too. She had long since been a friend of mine and she had even confronted me about her anxiety about this match. She was the one who had talked me into fighting hard and getting the advantage early.

"Let's open some beer!" Kofi yelled.

This proposition was greeted with loud agreement from all side.

"You did so well!" Maria said, hugging me.

I was high. I took a long drink of beer and hugged her back. "Thanks, Maria," I said, grinning like an idiot.

She laughed nervously and leaned back. She kissed me on the lips. I knew it was just friendly; she knew I was Verya's property. I smiled at her gratefully. She had supported me.

I looked around, focusing on Hunter's face. In the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Verya, being dragged off by Cody Rhodes. Still, when I looked, I didn't see anything. I must have imagined it.

I was brought back to reality by a toast being announced in my honor. I grinned and continued celebrating.

It was about half an hour, maybe 45 minutes later. We had taken the party to the DX locker room. My phone rang; I wouldn't have heard it if I hadn't had my phone on vibrate as well as sound. As it was, I barely felt it. Still, I pulled it out and looked at the Caller ID. It was Verya.

I picked up immediately, excusing myself and stepping outside. "Hello?"

"It's Verya," she said.

I could barely hear her over the noise. I figured I should tell her the good news. "Hey, Ver! Did you see the match? I won, I'm staying at WWE!"

"That's just great," she said. Her voice was a little quiet.

"And guess what? I'm cleared! They arrested Jeff, they had his fingerprints or something, but I ―"

She interrupted me, yelling, "SHUT UP, JOHN!"

I instantly felt something was wrong. She didn't normally act like this. "Something wrong, baby?" I asked quietly, drawing further away from the room.

She exploded. "DON'T YOU 'BABY' ME, CENA! I _saw_ your ridiculous match, where you nearly annihilated Randy. 5-1, was it? I _saw_ you kissing Maria after it. I saw them stitch up Randy's busted head."

_Oh shit_, I thought. _No, no, no, no, no_. I said desperately, "Oh, kissing Maria? Don't worry, she only a friend, I swear. Besides, _she_ kissed _me_. She was just happy I won, that's all, I swear ―"

"No, John," she said, quiet now. "I don't need you to swear anything. We're over."

I couldn't believe it. After a few seconds, I regained my ability to speak. "You're breaking up with me?" I asked, still in shock.

"Yeah, I am. See you around, Cena." She hung up.

The phone slipped from my fingers. It landed harmlessly on my shoe. I slid down the wall, my mouth hanging open. I just couldn't believe it. Where did I go wrong? What could I have done? I lost it during the match, yes, I couldn't deny it. I hated Randy and all my hatred finally just exploded, fueled by the stress of the situation.

How could this have happened? Before the policemen invaded my room, our relationship couldn't have been better. I couldn't think straight. I decided to call her back. I _had_ to save this and the longer I waited, the less inclined she would be to resume our relationship.

Two rings. Then it was cut off. She must have turned off her phone.

I swore. This wasn't fair.

"John? What's up, man?" Hunter asked, sitting by me, holding a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. His second.

"It's over," I said emotionlessly. "Verya broke up with me." My voice broke at the end.

Hunter was shocked but he quickly got over it in order to comfort me. I appreciated it, but it didn't make the situation any better. I knew I had to get her back before somebody else got her. And I knew exactly who would be gunning for her. The number one contender for my coveted spot as Verya's boyfriend. Randy Orton.


	24. Chapter 24: Forgive and Forget

VERYA

It was two weeks after Verya had broken up with John Cena. All the while, he kept trying to get her favor back. The storyline reflected it: they broke up there, too. Randy Orton, however, was the one Verya now leaned towards. As Maryse would have said, their undeniable chemistry was drawing them together, finally.

The heated on-screen rivalry was going to officially end in one of the most controversial matches of the year: a no disqualification, no count-out, anything goes Triple Threat match for Cena's WWE championship. Apparently the Creative Team was evenly split on whom they thought should win and so the end of the match was left to the three contestants to decide. The match was scheduled for next Sunday.

They were all on a plane headed for Las Vegas, Nevada, where they were going to stay for a couple days before the actual match. Randy had successfully bullied the people in management into giving him and Verya adjacent seats. They talked amiably straight through the entire trip, sometimes about nothing at all, sometimes about deep topics breached rarely in conversation.

After the plane had landed and when they were going out into the airport, Hunter caught Verya's arm, separating her from Randy, who walked on.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked quietly.

Verya nodded, puzzled, and let him take her aside.

"Verya," he began seriously, "what are you doing?"

"What?" she asked, not having the slightest idea as to what he was talking about.

"Why did you break up with John?" he clarified. "And why, for fuck's sake, did you leave him for _Randy Orton_? Randy, of all people?"

Verya straightened to her full height, growing annoyed. "Did John not tell you why I broke up with him?"

"He said something about kissing Maria, but didn't elaborate," Hunter said.

Verya explained her reasons, all of them, to her friend. Then, she sighed and said, "He's just been so unlike the John I knew. The John I knew and fell for would never have done any of that crap."

"No," Hunter agreed quietly, "that's what Randy would do."

Verya flinched as if he had hit her. "I'll have you know," she hissed, "that Randy has fully excused himself in my eyes. He apologized for everything and, since that, has done nothing to condemn him for. Has he?"

"No," Hunter admitted. "But just look at his past! Look at what he did to John! To _you_!"

"He regrets his actions," Verya shot back. "I just told you that."

"Verya, I'm sorry," Hunter said softly, "I didn't mean to provoke you. But have you seen John since you broke up with him? It's killing him. He's being eaten inside out by his guilt. And by his hatred for Randy," he added.

"Good. He should feel guilty," Verya said savagely, though something inside her twitched with sympathy.

He sighed deeply. "Look, yes, he wants you back, but I've talked him into the mentality that he doesn't have any influence over you now that you're no longer his girlfriend and that you can be with whomever you want. Even Randy."

"Good. That's called a healthy mentality," Verya said.

"Well, anyway. Just talk to him, ok? Forgive him. If you can forgive Randy, you can forgive John. It would mean the world to him."

Verya swore inwardly. She didn't want to forgive John just yet, but Hunter was stabbing at her weak spot. Just that slight, tiny action that could mean everything to somebody else. All she had to do was say three words: I forgive you.

"All right," she muttered. "All right, I'll talk to him."

Hunter clapped her on the shoulder. "Good girl," he said, grinning. "I knew you'd warm up." He walked on.

Verya glared after him and shouldered her bags. Randy was waiting for her just past the exit.

"How was your talk with Hunter?" he asked tonelessly.

It was almost routine by now. She told him, censoring nothing. He was not happy.

"Verya," he said seriously, "nobody can tell you what to do. You forgive John when you want to forgive him and not a second sooner."

"But Randy, Hunter's right. If it would make that much of a difference to John, why not? After all," she added with a touch of bitterness, "cheating happens all around the world all the time, and this case is hardly chronic."

Randy gritted his teeth but controlled himself. "All right," he said softly. "Do what you think is right."

It was another undeniable attribute to his new change. The improved Randy Orton. Verya smiled at him, taking his hand and leading him on. Maybe they could get a room together again.


End file.
